When the Leaves Come Out/You Preachers of "Morals"
YOU PREACHERS OF "MORALS"
You bolster Exploitation with your creed
Though blood upon its whiplash never dries.
You do the work of hired thugs and spies;
Like them you serve the System for your "feed."
The World's great Wrong cries out: you do not heed,
But drivel rot with heaven-uplifted eyes,
Then creep away behind a cloud of lies
To kiss the palsied hand of murderous Greed.
This is the work for which you get your pay:
To keep the world unchanged in sullen "peace"
Where serf-men toil at tasks that never cease,
Heartbrokenly from bitter day to day—
The Crime upheld by preachers and police
Where Lust, unhindered, battens on its prey!