That which is coiled is my spine
shielded away from their piercing hands
and devilish eyes
.
.
That which is twisted is the path
of my country's future from the people's wrath
drowned in dept since thirty years past
waiting to see how long the next one will last.
.
.
That which is coiled is the arms of my land
beaten down by white painted sticks
while its soldiers march steady in their sleep
.
.
damned be the hand that beat me
damned be the minds that twisted my dreams a-fright
damned be he who snares after a golden chair
damned be them whose hands are smeared with angels' blood
.
.
My home is suffering a sever case of schizophrenic love
confused hate
misguided trust.