Masses

On podiums great men make their stand
Voices booming overland
Sweeping gestures, roaring flame
To lie and spin and smile and blame
Towards the ground the way is greener
Our words and feelings being leaner
Deafened to the giants' thunder
Numb to being trodden under

On battlefields great men fight their cause
Summon force to holy wars
Swinging barrels, steadfast will
To chase and fight, to die or kill
Towards the ground the grass is red
Our vessels are of feelings bled
Deafened to the blasts of war
Numbing to the very core

On mountains great men tend their race
Feasting, toasting, draped in lace
Iron gloves on velvet fists
To catch and trap those who Fate kissed
Towards the ground we struggle on
The suits and ties we daily don
Deafened to the screams of pain
Numb until in graves we're lain