Te’ King

Construction crosses begin to rise
Swinging arms about in the air
Building becoming before your eyes
But what it will be is not yet there
Silhouetting up against the skies
The native ogle on in a stare
Severing off our earthly ties
A frozen iron forest laid bare
Industrious progress in disguise
The round peg protruding from the square
Fifteen percent to just pay the tithes
The priests of profit taking their share


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