Before empire's crest of cracks spreading out
Wait crooked boned the grinning army white
Blind with bliss and bold dreams of glory shout
The troops of the Sun stand facing the dark
Night falls, an iron sledge on the anvil
Of day. The wall of fools advance with shields
The stars disintegrate. The dead, tranquil,
Feed fury with frozen eyes and force yield
Upon the pink cheeked rows of living fear.
Gold haired soldiers turn and fall, swords let go
Their blades to rust and serve the ghoulish leers
Fresh corpses feed the grasses turning brown
The moral here: the living fight and drown
For the undead to gain new souls each round.
Derided. Cat calling.
Kettle black. Sneak attack.
Blowing steam. False alarm.
Broken dream. Won't disarm?
Bully's scheme: Knock their block off.
Our regime. Drop the talk.
Take a walk. It's like this.
Now we're pissed. Mess with us.
Off the bus. Won't comply?
Eye for an eye.
Break the circle. Staunch the flow.
Stop the supper. Let them know.
Western Diamonds. Will bite back.
Crushing coal. Heart attack.
Jewel thieves. Smiling back.
Your secret market. Ain't so black.
Trade in liver. Hudson river.
Initiative. Decide to live.
What are you. Smoking crack.
We'll strike back. Blind or not.
With rage or calm. We'll drop the bomb.
Change your mind? Will comply?
Fugget about it, Fucking die.
Comes a time with a sigh
we must look us in the eye
to plumb the depths we find
hidden from a shield behind
rattled into place a manhole cover
like a penny left with care
on our blind spot.
Later or quite soon
our bones we must exhume
to trace the secret cracks,
reveal the source of the attacks
so we can understand
the difference between our right
and our left hand.
Or maybe never we shall see
with such scope or piety
that certain global headline facts
might be consequences of our acts
and so embark on that familiar ride
of burning in the lime light
of our Nationalist Pride.
So who do you want to blame?
Do you want to blame the guy who pulled the trigger?
Or his companion who wrapped telephone wire about the
school teacher and the american businessman?
What about the third accomplice who interrogated them
while splashing gasoline on their heads?
Why don't you blame all three of them since they
each took potshots at the captive's knees.
Does it really matter which one wielded the carving knife?
Perhaps they drew straws afterwards, to determine
who got to fire the flare gun...
...Maybe you should blame the local police
who went by the numbers and poked through
the charred rubble, and two days later claimed
ignorance about the flare cartridge
missing from the evidence file.
Naw . . . you want the brown-skinned fuck
who pulled the trigger to burn, don't you?
Do you know what a trigger is?
The killer himself is a trigger.
Do you actually believe the local periodicals
with their blazing headlines about some Crime
Of Passion involving prostitutes?
That's the work of a pretty passionate pimp,
to employ text-book tactics from
The School Of The Americas,
don't you think? Or don't you think?
You want to blame the trigger finger?
Then step it up a notch and blame
the man who gave the order,
because the ignorant hirelings who did the deed
were only doing their job, after all.
What sense of justice will you get from knowing
a couple of filthy scum bags like that were captured,
jailed . . . even executed?
Will you really sit back in relief,
feeling the scales have tipped even?
While the real men who arranged this crime
sit back in complete anonymity?
I don't think so.
So go ahead and blame the man who gave the order,
but you have to ask yourself who is this man,
who appears to be the "real" trigger finger?
Is he some card board cut out comic book character
who was just bored one day lounging in the tropics
devising this chess trap atrocity to while away the hours?
Maybe he's a real life Scarface "teaching some Americans
a lesson" . . . Yeah, right.
You want to know something? I'm tired of this.
If you're not starting to see the picture, you never will.
If you can't see the chain reaction in
the trigger finger command,
then it's because YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH,
and the truth is, YOU ARE TO BLAME.
Because the chain reaction,
by floating all the way to the Top,
(and there is no doubt that it does just that),
and if you don't know where the Top is, just look around you,
how long have you been living in this country?
Oh I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt your video game,
but if you just don't feel right putting the blame
on dear old Uncle Sam,
well that's perfectly fine, because he's just
a marketing conception after all,
and what he really represents is YOU. And ME.
We are a nation that is supposed to be run by the people
and for the people, and regardless of the fact
that certain bullies wrenched away that power
from the rest of us
and monopolized themselves into
the highest executive offices in the land,
this is still no excuse for the cold, hard fact that
each and every one of us are to blame for murder.
So who do you want to blame for pulling the trigger?
Take a long, hard look in the mirror.
It all starts there.