A term of endearment
A pure bread
Pedigree
Imbecile

The firing squad on parade on the thoroughfare
The death squads are on patrol for run on sentences and chemical runoff
The peer mediators tell us all to calm down
The rapscallions try to push us into their get-rich-quick schemes
And the shut-ins settle down with their mail ordered brides

The wallflowers tell everyone to go to hell with great brio
I guess I'll see them there
It won't be much of an endeavor
It'll be like a dog finding its way home

The blood brothers perturb everyone else
Telling them their open blood pact is BYOB
Then starting a be-in singing Come all ye faithful and Kumbaya
It all comes full circle, monkey see monkey do