What is to become of this mad old world?
This madness driven by an ancient dream
Someone once had about a great country
Once known as America.

The myth of freedom.
The lie of bravery
Laid bare in propaganda news.

With nothing left to fight for
We fight for war.
And peace, the carrot.

The empty plastic carrot
Filled with mustard gas
Blanket of our aggression.

Not my aggression.
Not me. Not we, the people.
The crazy, lazy people.

We believe “My country ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,”
As our resources are siphoned
By warmonger thieves of Democracy.

Our hearts broken in acceptance
Of corruption and debauchery.
Our minds terrified of the inevitable
War on our own shores.

A war of retribution
Borne of indecency
Fed with fiscal lust.

This ill sent legacy
To our children
Carries no great pride.

It would appear
Democracy has died.