November Roaches
The garden of plastic signs only blooms around election time.
Those two-legged roaches are spouting empty words.
They don't give a damn about our lives.
Where were these roaches on the Fourth of July?
I feel like pruning their signs, but it's a crime.
You can even do time.
But tear down Honest Abe, and they'll turn a blind eye.
Can't wait for the circus to leave town.
The neo-politicians juggling pins of our emotions.
Big-nosed ego clowns spitting tear gas in our faces,
Plastic flowers and empty vases they are.
Can't wait for the two-legged roaches
to crawl back into their dirty dark holes.
They bark at us to vote.
For what, A cock roach.
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