A Settler's Right to Plunder

Hello, my name is Seth and I'm from Brooklyn, I've come to pluck your olives harsh and crude, and with forced barrels of my gun rude, shatter your dream of statehood, before the CNN crowd. Weep and whine as you might, this land is mine, woeful farmer, sink through the earth. From the river to the sea, now comes my fury, perish under the overwhelming tide. Visit the bottom of Galilee Sea, sleep by the fable of your abode, washed far away to the sea. The river is the forest of my fire, chase genius of my right snaking through the valley, teeming with pride. Of that forbidden olive tree, I shall haste to sing heavenly muse of its utter destruction. I hence invoke my biblical right to plunder, fast and fury by the oracle of God. This is dispensed, and what surmounts the reach of law, I shall so delineate.