Hut, two, three, four
What do you think you are fighting for?
Four, five, six, seven
Invasion is the path to heaven.
Seven, eight, nine, ten
If it doesn’t work, do it again.
Six, seven, eight, nine
If innocents die too, never mind.

We need to clean things
Wipe lessers out of the place.
They’re a total threat and
Weaken our beloved race.
We don’t have time
For anyone sick or poor
We must go somewhere
And fight unreasonable war.

Helping the weak and sick
Costs too much money to allow.
Besides, there are among us
Suffering rich people right now.
This land owes it all to the rich
So, we must do all we can
To support them with each pitch.

So, hut, two, three, four,
Now you know what we’re fighting for.
Three, four, five, six
Now, none of your liberal tricks.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Don’t question your betters, that’d be great.
Hut, two, three, four
We are who you are fighting for!

Rapacious hands give
Covetous demands, cities
Built on genocide

An estuary of decomposing
    virtues, bloated references
weave on the silence of a stream
                             of hidden dread.  

Trying to hide the crimes of yesterday,
                flowing beyond their view.
But everything will eventually
                                caress the shores
of what was washed beyond their guilt.


Nothing that is washed away
         will ever be kept secret.
For everything will find a river
                                             of truth.
To be seen and deemed in dismay.
            Life isn't a river to be washed away.