I don’t mean to sound alarmist
But most of what they let you read is garbage

Most of it’s designed to warp our minds
Until, subconsciously, you find
you’ll take the time to lick their boots
free of grime
and wipe their mines free of tarnish.

Oil is the centerpiece
A Body count of millions is the garnish.

So how’s it feel to know we funded every carcass?

That every year our taxes pay for carpet-bombing Gaza under shroud of darkness?

We spend enough a year to house and feed each homeless person in the streets on turning families in apartment buildings in the Middle East to bloody craters full of charred garments.

And our media is silent at best.
At worst, they can find it in themselves to call War Crimes ‘Clashes’, and label children burned to ashes Terrorists who played a stupid game, and reaped the harvest.

And every time we try to paint the truth
the news sends all their slugs to suck off all the varnish, and distort it into something harmless.

The media will hang you by your feet and keep you half-asleep
So, yes, I’m here to set you free
But freedom won’t be sweet
Because you’ll fall a thousand feet
When I come cut you out your harness

They say those who dream the deepest
Fall the farthest

They also say that home is where the heart is

But if home for you, is Gaza,
Netanyahu’s got you painted as a target.

Perhaps it’s not the impact,
But it’s what you see when falling
that will hit the hardest.

Maybe it’s the sound of all those children crying out in those apartments that will hit the hardest.

Maybe all those little bodies scattered in the dirt will hit the hardest.

Maybe seeing human lives assigned such little worth will hit the hardest.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re paying for the darkest of atrocities committed on this earth, that will hit the hardest.

Maybe it’s the knowledge that we give 10 million a day to the oppressors who possess the kind of Medicare you’ll die in debt before you see that’s gonna hit the hardest.

Maybe then you’ll see you’ve always had more in common with the commoners whose Slaughter we fund every day in Gaza than our senators and bosses.

Maybe then you’ll see our country never had a conscience.

Maybe, then, the retroactive guilt will make you nauseous

Maybe what hits harder than the impact is the act of being conscious

Of Knowing your complicity and helplessness to try and stop the bloody deeds of Congress

That no matter who’s in office, America preserves its foreign interests by whatever means it’s greed demands, however monstrous.

We’ll always need a place to train our Contras

And Biden’s got a back-up plan should harm befall the holy land,
Wipe it off the map, he’ll draw it back on with an iron hand
He demands an Israel or reasonable effigy to exercise democracy and colonize the Middle East, regardless of the human cost, or phosphorus atrocities all bought and paid with money they rerouted out the budget for the nonessential things like ever making Flint’s water clean.

Maybe what hits hardest is the day you see this country for it’s actual priorities and never more know honest peace attempting sleep

Maybe then you’ll look at politicians making speeches like a blood-encrusted beast espousing destiny to empty seats and fellow leeches

As the gauntlet of democracy extends its brutal reach

Like a giant wave of trash come to crash on foreign beaches

Maybe build a base, throw a flag down, and heavily pollute the region

Rape your ecosystems, gut your fauna and congratulate you on your new allegiance.

Oops, we mean Alliance.

This is something mutual until you’re noncompliant

We stole something crucial on which you can be reliant

Maybe what hits hardest is the centrist saying both sides need to Stop the violence

Those would be the very same centrists saying we should all accept police brutality, who hem and haw and clutch their pearls and spend their time condemning riots

But, very soon, will come the day the centrists all get censored like the rest of us, and, pious as they’ll try to be, they won’t stay quiet.

But they’ll just end up shouting in the void that they were all so quick to render us subscribers

And it will be too late to light the fires.

So, far away tonight, there burn the spires of a region set ablaze for which you’ve paid for every pyre.

Which is why your checks weren’t all 600 dollars higher.

Call it Foreign Interests,
Or American Desires.