Confidentially

Beneath the palm trees
In some southern paradise I lie,
While on some far off shores
In sandy deserts thousands die,
And the survivors ask me, why?
I tell them as the leader of this land,
Honor bound, I never, ever lie:
'You must defend your holy soil',
But, confidentially, my family
Makes money on the oil.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz