The Possible Pitfalls of Socialism
One voice-one line
no thoughts permitted
to reach the artist's eye
sanity thrown into a frothy fit
the press is inking lies.
One voice-one line
so, there they forever sit
void of God's golden air
deep in a muddy pit
these blossoms of despair
one party-feeding us all their $hit.
One voice-one line
heaven in the devil's grip
no hope in opaque eyes
cross-crushed master's grip
one party a million lies.
One voice-one line
on the pinball fringe
until the spirit finally tilts
madness becomes the medicine
when you run out of pills
one party-one line.
One voice-one line
the last baby dripping red
nothing left but fire n blight
spinning in your pinecone head
one party-one line.
One voice-one line
lead them to the grate
lamb throat meets the knife
truth is revealed, but it's too late
one voice-one line.
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