1958
1958
Bikini bottom
All sponges rotten
The people have left
Though the holes remain
Swim suites in celebration
Propaganda in every state
Love that bombed a hate
Because of their guns
They are the great
Still poor bikini island
Where once the people thrived
Now thanks to that Uncle Sam
And his cheerful children
That lowly hydrogen weapons
The island is left in radiation seasons
And all those soldiers could scream was
God bless our nation…
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