The War Is Over, You Lose Blues

I watched the T.V. late last night, and watched corporate Nazi's try to explain their plight. Cheshire, dollar grinning C.E.O.'s justified moving from the cities that paid their bills. Tax breaks, easements, incentives and local blood were not enough to keep them in the neighborhood. I watched the T.V. late last night, heard the catch in the throat of some kindly corporate chief that regretted letting go of some of his old friends in the ranks. But this is war and you know scorched earth and torture help the "fittest" show a profit. "Heil" to the fourth! Announce it loud and clear. From Nam to Faluja we see the ghost of Smedley Butler. They don't need no stinkin' Hitler and downsized his butt more than sixty years ago. I watched the T.V. late last night, fell asleep and dreamed a bit of pathetic scheming company types at some cosmic Nuremburg. One by one they answer charges with the same refrain. "It wasn't me. It wasn't me. I answered to the stockholders. It's them you need to blame."