Bleeding Words Do Sting

bleeding words do sting
the ceremonies of spring
pass as a child on swing

ashen lovers honey bring
lost homework they will cling
a scarlet bribe is their king

the ravens broken wing
makes songbirds all to sing
rolling golden balls of string

and the poor they just stare
wishing, scratching, if they care
it's revolution's scent in the air

the working class say a prayer
caught in a noonday flare
those in-between, curse and swear

Warhol groupies decry the glare
passing soup-cans to their heir
the emperor has got his share

dying is not worth the game
searching out chaff amid fame
a still birth, a damn frame

and we are all the same
looking at someone to blame
while staking out our claim

the bite it's hard to tame
and green expands the flame
now just castration of the lame