To Late To Plead Insanity Poem by Cigar Aficionado

They mill about beached, unheard,
two hundred fifty eight million, lept ov'r
the poor thier insurgence to spend
on every thing other, but by they for
whom it's for.
We were not told, rambling words is
said by they whom keep you out from.
The social worker tries to explain, the
politics, they need your money to shore
up mistakes of failed coupes, is stock
market, it is fed money not state money
fall on deaf ears, Hale to us are of African
skin like no precedent, he gave his word.
Child of faith, understand this, he knew not
the world untill he was president, please
go away to cry the tears, we tried to turn.