The argot was arcane
That left me desolate
Why they inflict pain
Why brethren they hate
Once called as blood
That flowed in the veins
Now flows as a flood
Leaving crimson stains
Trust too easily betrayed
In our pleasant world
Weak often are preyed
And into oblivion hurl’d
‘tis the big brother’s day
To harass the meek
The mighty devils slay
Then justice seek
In the high prison walls
Innocent prisoner cries
Cries sighs and falls
Till blood in him dries
The voice of the just
Unheard in the noise
That kills it as the rust
Even iron destroys
Pallid faces in sorrow
Colored in grief, deep
Wait if tomorrow
Happy sun does peep
‘Had some one been bold’
Has been by its use
A cliché grown old
Leaving no excuse
A dead slowly stinks
And is lost to clay
Some change in winks
Some with a delay
Time will always heal
Sometimes late sometimes soon
So shall it unveil