while life's too busy dying
deaths so alive and well  
in hungry jaws of the frat-house beast  
strums the strings of the tolling bell
and don’t you wear it well boy
in your long-pig leather suit
the cross hair of your blunderbuss
shooting anything that moves

when the have-not's smash their cages
you keep them busy with a foreign war
as "good old boys", hands down their pants
******* the corpse of more
the long knives they've been sharpened
the  guillotine will fall
best notify your next of kin
leave your first born by the door

well life's too busy dying
but deaths a rose in bloom
in the clammy hands of a businessman
being blown in a motel room
and don’t you wear her well boy?
why don’t she treat you right?
you’re her rabid backwash reflux *****
cause your bible belts too tight