Gulliver

One day
The dwarfs will rebel
Against Gulliver
All the men with tiny hearts
Armed with sticks and sickles
Will assault the only giant
With their small grudges, with their bile
With their rage of shaved and shortsighted dwarfs
Poor you, Gulliver, poor you
The day when all the dwarfs
Unite their tools and their hatred
Their customs, their vices, their wallets
Their schedules. They won't, they won't
They won't forgive you for being tall
For them, generosity is just a luxury they can't afford
They live fed by the envy that inhabits them as a habit
Look at them writhing suspiciously behind their shell glasses
They will accuse you, they will accuse you, they will accuse you
Of being the one-eyed in the land of the blind
Of being the one who speaks in the land of the mute
Of being the madman in the land of the sane
Of walking in the land of the tired
Of being wise in the land of fools
Of being bad in the land of the good
Of having fun in the land of the serious
Of being free in the land of the imprisoned
Of being alive in the land of the dwarfs
Of being the voice that cries in the desert
Of being the voice that cries in the desert