Land of Irony

We live in a land of irony
  
      Where we are ruled in freedom
  
      A beautiful murky freedom
  
      Our floors are made of gold
  
      Our rivers silver.
  
      Yet fortunate is one with one square meal.
  
      We wallow in the pages of the Bible
  
      We dress with the pages of the Koran
  
      But our tongues are snakes
  
      Our hands machetes
  
      Our feet made of hot numb iron,
  
      We have an enormous land size
  
      Yet we drink blood every nook and cranny
  
      And still never have a home.
  
      We fell trees after our drilling
  
      And still cannot carve a splinter.
  
      We are blessed so much
  
      But we are sinking in a quagmire of curses.