News :: Electoral politics

Two Thousand and six, six, six...

By Bill Gallagher

Scuffed dimensions warped absurd,
Lets wireless the telephone.
We'll make the need for crashing birds,
And mutants twisted limbs,
Hi Ho.

We'll dance the dream of death,
Beneath the putrid poison skies.
Let peons watch electro-jest,
Thats always our disguise,
of lies.

A skull, 2 bones, a crucifix --
Our signs and fatal signature:
We kill those in our way with tricks,
Perverting Holy Curvature --
We Smile.

Money is our God,
Because we know of nothing else
As strong;
Show us something real that works;
It can't be done.
We are not wrong.

Our ethereal and evil songs,
Plague the mass with ignorance.
Your time is short - our time is long,
And we pay well to hide your trance
From you.

We promise heaven, we promise hell,
The need is there for you to please.
We really care not what you pray,
As long as prayers done
On your knees.

Behold our whip, it cracks again,
Each time anew each time the same;
We see you cower, we hear you scream,
Your anguish is our balm,
It is our purpose to foul your dream,
Creating chaos, destroying calm.

We worship torture, It is our drug;
We only love your dread and pain;
You worship torture just as well,
You call it Crucifix by name.

The worst among you call it God --
We elevate those few.
Serving us they ride rough shod,
Killing innocents, trampling you.

You've not a chance, this we ensure,
Though it seems at times you do;
We steal your souls with lies and lures,
and you have not the vaguest clue.

Your soul is what we eat you see,
And hunger is our state.
We foster strife and jealousy,
So you trade love for hate.


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An inglorious peace is better than a dishonorable war.
-- Mark Twain
Source: "Glances at History" (suppressed)

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