Serve the Feeding Hand

A pittance for my existence
Bread for my sweat
Wine to numb my mind until my death
Oh lord, you noble
Oh, why am i the wretch
Why do i suffer by the hands of my bother
His ill will is your labor
Class and status are his rewards for favors
You are comfortable as long as
Cain fights Able
Who wouldn't take scraps over maggots
Desperate men see no damage
Riders of the lame horse take
Orders from the Golden Carriage
Keep your enemies close
Let your enemies know that those
Who remain from where they came
Are the undesirables
This is the order of control
Pawns are drawn to the light like moths
With promises to be illuminated
Only If they oversee the mob
Duties authenticated by God
And the low who lay in the dark
Send prayers to the father
Even here in the abyss
Those willing to commit fratricide
May serve a purpose
To the class that's ruling
"Any upward movement on the ladder is improvement"
Says the piece of shit
For his brother receives crumbs
To cut him up and feed him to the king
A meal that goes best with wine and bread