It flings from mouths to mouths
And from ears to ears,
Through the narrows of generations.
It is mumbled into minds,
In the corners of their four-angled fences.
As they rave and rant it every day:
'The readers are the leaders of tomorrow!'


Let us, for a while
Stretch their throats to confession,
To tell us, in exact,
When will the readers become the leaders?

Is it when the dazzling dreams
And blooms of bright visions,
Are wickedly drenched off,
Under the weeping faces of wrecked roofs,
Inside our cages of learning,
Will the readers ever become the leaders?

Is it when, with scratched skins, the brainiest kids
Are worn with pieces of ragged wears.
Ragged wears still soaked, with tears.
Tears craving new books and pencils,
As their farming fathers, too peasant to provide.
But the dullest Senator's children,
Adorned in the fittings of the finest suits,
Will the reader ever become the leaders?

Is it when the best-built laboratories,
Are open to the ones bred,
With silver-spoon in their mouths only,
While those decked with destitution,
Are to carry out their scientific experiments,
Under the shivering shades of trees,
Will the readers ever become the leaders?

Is it when the most intelligent heads,
On the race to conquer unemployment,
Are made to turn around a million miles,
In the burning rage of the sun rays,
And the brutal beatings of the rain falls,
Still all efforts in vain,
Will the readers ever become the leaders?

Is it when the Executive of vampire,
Shielded inside the hollow of Aso Rock,
To butcher the fleshes of unfulfilled hearts,
In order to serve the beefs of their delicacies,
And gulp the springs of striving bloods,
To make the wines of their thirst,
Will the readers ever become the leaders?

Let us, once more, ask them,
Why they have made the ladder to leadership,
As tough as a tiger's tail.
Is it when brightening visions blurred,
And dazzling dreams drowned.
Is it when aspiring hearts shredded,
And all hopes turned grave -- death,
Will the readers ever become the leaders?