Kings and Farmers

Beneath the crown, the ministers preach,
The priests sharpen their three pronged swords,
To lay upon the necks of the weak,
Who dare stand in the way of the procession road,
A prince may once fall, a king may once rise,
But the farmer's fate will ever be the same,
Until the toiler at his office desk,
Refuses to understand the game,
That which once was will happen again,
The tellers will again tell the story once told,
In the hope that some warrior of peace,
Will unravel the words of the story's folds.