Yeehaw for the GOP (a song)

Here's a low-fi recording of a goofy little song I wrote as I was out and about the past couple of days. I hope you'll like it. 

You’ll go to war with everyone, you’re ready to invade
bombing schools and burning mosques is how this game is played.
Burn the oil, blot out the sun make it darker everyday
it’s the end of time, the final reel and Jesus is on his way.

Take advice from fools and cross against the lights
you’re just a graveyard bully who’s pickin’ another fight.
You deliberately misunderstand the doctrine that you claim
Everything you touch turns into another round of shame

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

You don’t want the immigrant, the woman, or the gays
You only want the schools where the teachers bow to pray
Dismiss the prophets, malign the mystics these books you’ll never read
ignorance is the way to your nationalistic creed.

Lincoln’s party has devolved from what it used to be
I remember how you sang, “Let us die to set men free.” 
Building prisons, camps, and jails, and all of them for profit,
Deregulation is your way to bigger bank deposits.

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

Jesus ain’t no Democrat, I know this to be true
but how could anyone see the Lord above when they look at you?
Mister Rodgers was a Republican, a man I could respect.
If more of you were more like him, I’d hug and kiss your necks.

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

Desperate Signals

    Please. Hear me.

    We are captives of a brutal peace. Another spectacle made of blood, suffering another forceful assault. Anther succession of mortal explosions and the corporeal fire that burns even the air. A proud legacy of street-level violence. Machine gun mounted motorbikes and government guns on pickup trucks flying vulgar presidential banners fire into the gathered crowds. Public protester executions. Beheadings and gauntlets. Gassing socialists with illegal chemicals. Hacked thousands flee as refugees.

    There is an inequitable Armageddon at the door – the imbalance of munitions and humiliations over hunger and rotting sickness. We’ve scuttled past the strong war warnings to push the clock forward – the symbol of our destruction.

    We are traded for betrayal. And the same fate for many undefined sins against the state and houses of dynamite. Times of trouble such as never was such a wasteland. Repeated. Desperate rejections of this regime. We are begging in waves. The blood of ten thousand. The day after and again repeated. The fallout of chaotic response.

    The artillery ambitions and strategies of the resource savages – those who buy and sell the world beneath and cap the sky above have brokered evil in this place. Millions of tons of debris, the rubble of ruined lives and unexploded ordnance. We know the wickedness of their weapons. We know the vanity of their lives. We are nothing but physical potential forces to be added up, accounted. The ledger of our lives allows only a little fight. The military turned in and the open energy of our vitality transferred out.

    All military economies are thus. No neighborly peace, no negotiated truce behind locked doors. Savage battle is how things are done here in the crucible of war. Exploitation and salted earth. No cease fire for bitter arguments. Cold blood despots make sick peace jokes. The catastrophe of intimidation power. Normal procedures are followed for murder – in secret, unacknowledged or publicly documented. Either way there should be no flesh saved.

    We are besieged. This is the plain and forecasted truth with dangers exposed. The infrastructure of invasion turned inward. All choke points secured. Cut off by simultaneous offenders. It is an open secret. The poisonous promotions of violence and horror. It’s a game to them. “Shooter, shoot her!” comes a faceless command from the demons of common criminality and civil battery.

    From the ramparts of history, we’ve been raised – to live and die within the walls of a conquered city, but we are silenced in this day. Four years already and three years more. And then? Our desperate signals sent out, stand up nation to nation. Land or sea. Still there is no response and the days are unshortened.

    Please. You know the answer.