I finally found a subject close to my heart and decided to write a poem about it - don't tell my barmaids
Would you tarnish your own doorstep
Not wise if you are the mafia ace
Money, women, power is all they rep
But actually are they just a hired race?
Another job to keep all and sundry
But who gives them the power
Is it you, me or a country?
They own a massive gun tower
So who has the balls to stop them?
Perhaps if you are one of them
You can deflect and disown them
But if you can't beat them why not join them
& then rip the carpet from underneath 'em
My understanding is that they are puppetiers
Acting themselves like puppets on a string
So who is that puppetier, is it you, the king of tiers?
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