November 6, 2006
In Ancient Babylon he was a king,
Raised wicked from birth,
He perceived the wrong thing,
He was convinced he was ethical and made the right choice,
But, ill advised he destroyed our only voice.
A puppet to the shadows,
That ruled supreme,
He undertook their evil mission,
A prince drunk with his power,
One day became king,
And the surrounding area,
Engulfed in suffering.
Seem awful close to the Patriot kind,
But 200 years later,
It seems we haven’t learned from time.
And without Habeas Corpus,
Our voice is stripped,
And I ask myself,
How can Bush get away with all of this?
Breast fed by his corporations,
Corpulent from their milk,
Greed and ego,
Blanket him like fine silk.
At the age of 17,
I find his black claws of hate,
Creeping towards me,
Slowly unlocking the gate.
And with fluorescent red eyes,
Bush peers into our soul,
Darkness engulfs us,
And takes the country by whole.
So now all that is left,
Is a puppet king with supreme power,
Judgment day is upon us,
We have reached the final hour.