As the West grows fat
the Third World squirms and dies,
poverty devours their tomorrows
while the West swims in a sea of lies.
Look, see their lacerated lives,
their pot bellies and spindle limbs
with hands stretching out towards you?
They’re not begging,
they’ve earned the right to demand.
Their poverty has kept us fat and warm
as we shaded our eyes from the light of reality,
well, now they’re demanding.
Demanding we wake from our soft slumber
see their suffering, grasp their hand,
pull them from the blood sucking morass of poverty
inflicted on them by our sightless greed.
Our blindness stole their dad’s bowl of rice
our lassitude slew their brother
our flights of fashion starved their sister
our arrogance maimed their mother.