Council Of Gods

Yo… They say the leaders got stone-age minds, But the real ones? They hide behind signs. Not elected, not seen, not named — Just strings pulled in a power game.

Peace time? Fatcats run the show, War time? Politicians get the glow. They carve their names in blood and sand, While the rich stay clean with a hidden hand.

Historic fantasies, ego-fed, While the rest of us count the dead. It ain’t new — it’s just refined, A marriage of power, twisted and blind.

World’s in mess, food lines thin, Sea rise creepin’ under our skin. Nine billion souls, no plan in sight, AI and bots takin’ jobs overnight.

So what if war’s a quiet cull? A pre-emptive strike on the human hull. They fear collapse, they fear the crunch, So they swing the blade before the punch.

They see two types: them and the rest, History shows they don’t care who’s blessed. They wield covert power with impunity, While we beg for scraps in fake community.

Cavemen didn’t delegate lies, Pharaohs didn’t wear disguise. But today? It’s twisted deep — Power’s a shadow that never sleeps.

This ain’t 1945, it’s 2025, Reusable rockets, AI alive. Mars is prepped, the launchpad’s lit, While Earth still fights over fossil grit.

We got tools to build the stars, But we’re stuck in tribal scars. Each nation should sculpt its own ascent, Not beg for peace, but reinvent.

If we keep fightin’ over dirt, We’ll die in it — that’s the hurt. But if we rise, if we align, We build a future by design.

Ascend, Earth people — break the chain, Cosmic wealth ain’t built on pain. We ain’t expendable, we ain’t scum, We’re cells in the shapeshifter’s drum.

I felt the weight — not metaphor, but mass, Like granite pressed against my past. Not buried by time, but by design, A system built to mute the spine. Each breath a rebellion, each thought a crack, But the stone don’t move — it pushes back.

They say the leaders are cavemen still, But the real ones hide behind the will. Not in palaces, not on screens, But in contracts, codes, and fiscal machines. They don’t wear crowns, they wear disguise, And pull the strings with ancient eyes.

When peace reigns, the fatcats feed, But war gives puppets what they need. A chance to carve their names in flame, To play the hero in a rigged game. They don’t start wars for truth or land— They do it so history will understand Them as gods, not pawns in play, While the rest of us get swept away.

Nine billion souls, no plan, no grace, Automation racing, no jobs to chase. So what if war’s a quiet cull? A way to thin the human hull. They fear collapse, they fear the flood, So they prime the blade and spill the blood.

But maybe this ache, this buried scream, Is evolution breaking the dream. Not upward, not clean, not light and air— But clawing through systems built to snare. A species twitching in its sleep, While the stone above begins to weep.

We got rockets, AI, and Mars in sight, But still we fight over ancient right. We could build the stars, forge new breath, But we choose the loop, we choose the death. Each culture could sculpt its cosmic role, But instead we dig a deeper hole.

So speak out, stand tall, Don’t wait for the system to fall. The forge is lit, the sky is wide, Let’s build the stars — not just survive.

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