Long ago a creature
Of a far more primal sort,
Not fit to deem itself “a people”
Lived a nasty, brutish, short
Existence marked
By woe and ill
It reveled in recurring
Genocidal
Bloodlust for the thrill
Of an inherent need to ****
It was incapable of making
Gleaming cities made of gold
It barely scraped two stones together
Starting fires in the cold
To call it thriving
Would be lying
To the modern, honest man
Without some product to be buying
Or some money in his hand
Because today
We have forsaken
Savage ways
We have no stake in
And we only claim possession
Of the things we haven’t taken
Through the force of arms alone
Like troglodytes
With clubs of bone
For mass destruction
Weapon threats
Now keep the peace
A fallout zone
Unless the beastly race forgets
His place
Within society
And in this perfect world begets
A discontent anxiety