The Fathers are Drunk

From door to door knocking,Hand shakes at my doorCame in pleadingThe season is here once moreHyenas in sheep clothingGaffs in the water fishingTurbulence in the waterAs fishes gather around the baitBut the discerning ones wait The boatman will go offshoreTheir consent he can’t ignoreHe opened his mouth wideTalking issues as he is on the rideFrom my house to the nextHe talked as if drunkHe is not the worst, neither is he the bestExpect nothing than the others in to debunk They who our hands heave to show supportIn cognition of our support they leaveBut the color of our hearts our minds knowSoon the dice is cast and there is a splitOn the night of that decision a ball for the winnersThis is the night they get drunkSome taste the finest liqueur here;Grand Marnier, Kirsch and Scotch whiskyLast on the menu is champagneWished they could do these on their campaignBut now is the time they will sayThey get drunk till their eyes are heavy for the daysDays of deceit and rape.