With a stroke of pen
Pensioners sent to penury
With my pocket filled with jewelry
Pity the poor against the powerful
Pen is mightier than the sword
The fool says,
A zero after another alter your foolery
Nation never cure of nyctophylia
With morals dulled with the familiar
As stolen wealth hang as memorabilia
The ink is faint with amnesia
As they author our treasury with insomnia
No more, scribbling off to poverty
Write it in history
with this paraphernalia
That the records etched in our memory
Must be told through our mass media
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