Not A Clue

The soul of this nation is crumbling in decay, and like all our hopes and dreams, it’s rotting away. The road to happiness has a no-entry sign, So don’t try to tell me that everything is fine. All the signs on Main Street say sorry but we’re closed, how the hell we ended this way nobody knows. They promised America would be great again, all I got is this cesspool that we’re living in. The store down on the corner has shuttered its door, policemen and firemen say they can help no more. The trees in the forests have withered and are dead, smoke has my head spinning, my eyes are turning red. The oceans are drying, and all the fish are gone, hard to tell the difference between dusk and dawn. Those last words from you are echoing in my head, while nailed upon that cross with open wounds that bled, You looked toward Heaven with a heart pure and true, “forgive them oh Lord, for they know not what they do.”