Words of Mass Detritus

I understand we Earthlings Seek order amongst things An analogy with ants Their mother wears the pants Yet nothing parasitic Clips her subjects ticket. Her warriors die in battle Not like docile cattle Falling for a social nest Not some pointless quest Like double you em-dee’s Not hidden overseas. A faceless nation employs Children it then deploys With guns in hands to arid lands Where blood stains sun-baked sands Shaded by whose banner, oh Queen Who lives a life so serene? With soldiers to secure your soil Leeching off the workers toil Trusting to an aged tradition Of using fear to condition: All contributions clipped! All clip-evaders whipped! “But everyone’s the same,” I hear, “…it’s just a game!” You know we’re not just ants Or homicidal sycophants! Ok, let’s play by the rules, But not those writ by fools!