How 'bout if I kick you in the ass right now motherfucker?
Down the slippery slope of blood-stained walls and halls,
made by the nod of your round head,
nodding yes, like a bubble doll - to war,
you rolling spike of hell,
How 'bout if I kick you down past the bayonets of G.I. youth,
bleeding for your lusting oil slicked paws while mamma screams and sister wails and fathers lye in torment.
How 'bout if I kick you straight in the ass,
back down your corporate slide of green cash for ass,
I see you now as a child,
forlorn and full, and pulling the legs off flies while you play God and learn to talk out of the side of your mouth like a carnival barker before the ride of death.
How 'bout if I kick you square in the ass so you can fall face first into the mud and blood from so-called enemies you invent and demonize,
like some bad car salesman from hell,
selling us all a bitter taste and leaving a stain on our hands as well,
as you smirk at your dirty work and take our souls along for the ride and sell us all out for your glorious oily freedom you blood filled tick; watch out you might pop.
All your so-called Christian values that you hang out like a clean wash won't hide the soot and burnt carcasses that emanate from your crooked mouth every time you bark out another order and call dissent a whore...
but that whore is only the voice of reason that you spit at in a barrage of self-proclaimed rightous ideoligical scat as you drag down the wailing breath of all those who oppose.
Man your lifeboat and throw away your crown,
because the vultures of war never stay on top,
because blood-thirst weighs so heavy and tyrants always fall.