I think maybe America that's you
you are no conspiracy, true
just a good idea failing you
in execution every bloody day
on streets and in your schools
there's a war in store
because American war
is the thought of you
the right to bear arms
will be the death of you
in the food aisle
stuffed to white teeth with black bullets
bulging to the eyes with poison apple pies
drone cloud skies wide
eyes plenty surprised
at the feeding hand raised to strike
broad shoulders down to slopes
slipping, down, punch drunk dream
hugging the ropes
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