Lo and Behold

Songs of innocence are no more
All that’s left are voices under the control of moguls like Vincent Bolloré
Still they bellow, at the top of their lungs, but the sound never reaches shore from the slave boats
Even as they sail the trade routes
Ivory Coast, Gabon, Cameroon, Congo

And the silent wars go on
Right under their noses
While they embrace narratives manufactured on bible paper
Unbeknownst to them, their souls remain very much shackled



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