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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The day Democracy died, I was a little lad, yea, knee high Papa turned on the telly to watch the White House news Curious to hear if the whether forecast rumor was true Did the First Amendment reporters get carried away by a baton wavy sea of blue Horrified streaming video voices said, it was a shot live bulletin event Terrified eye witnesses stammer bled in the Death Valley of Dissent This is what I saw the fateful day Democracy died, I was a mere lad, yea, only knee high Me remember Mama sobbing, wiping her reddened eyes Broken-hearted pulse skipping, repeating: “Why, oh why?” As freedom of speech believers were wrongfully read last rites in the streets OMG! were the blog bleats Palace guards were told to forge ahead, by orders of authoritarian consent Replacing the non-lethal bullets instead, in the dire Death Valley of Dissent The tragic day Democracy died, I was a small lad, yea, barely knee high But, I’ll always remember that sorrowful Constitution mourn When freedom was abortion borne Foul eerie, dark crimson reign was a-falling from abysmal, grey skies A tsunami tide of muzzle pain, cursed flood of voter suppression sighs Watching pacifist protesters drop dead, their peace signs consumed by tyrannical flames of dread I heard swastika shouts (guillotine hatred coming down razor sharp, unedited) from the Ivory Tower of Power, saying, “Lady Liberty, off with her head!” And the ballot tears got trampled dried by the scattering lead I saw the Bill of Rights defenders on their knees bent, as their sacred write fell by the wayside Dictatorial forces said, “Only funeral marches in the Death Valley of Dissent” To this day, tortured Democracy never got revived Now, I'm a grown man with a lion mane And a firmament roar that can't be mute crucified
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