You, with your pure white banner
and your vanilla anthem
with your haughty manners
and your glorious Panem
You, who swore to protect
your perfect kingdom of loyal subjects
You stand above us, playing God
with your cryptic decisions
and your glorious facade
that warps and fools our vision
They called Olympus the land of gods
where democracy was born
But you stack your scales and fix the odds
Crown us with laurels made of thorns
A senate in a twisted forum
Under columns that never bend
All citizens are created equal
so long as they're free white men
Row after row, lily white
No use putting up a fight
for no one cares what's wrong or right
Faceless gladiators
Numbers, not names
A thousand foot-soldiers,
their faces the same
From your golden throne,
you don't see their pain
Blinded by fireworks, deafened by cheers
They bury their pride and swallow their tears
Their minds filled with the propaganda they hear:
"It's your duty to bow and an honor to serve;
be grateful for your pardon.
You've received more mercy than you deserve;
you've won a lucky bargain."
You cast them into your eternal flame
to bear your sins and wear your shame
But fire polishes crystal
and toil makes them strong
An empire built on slavery
can never stand for long.
