Those With Stars Those Without
Just one election cycle ago
Those without masks were scorned
Bullied out of churches and stores
Now it's the other way around,
(sneetches with stars-sneetches without)
They've really got the masses scrambling
dividing us by
skin tone
a bug
chromosomes
a wall of fear,
Division is becoming a chasm
deep and wide
no climbing out
except on the broken neck of Christ.
My- my, how easy it was to control the masses
without firing a shot,
With a blood-red flag and yellow stars
pocked with microscopic bugs,
Nights of broken glass and burning books all over again.
Those with stars, those without.
In case you haven't noticed, our division is their strength.
Our chains are their liberation.
We, the sheep, have surrounded ourselves with ourselves.
The red wolf is picking us off one by one.
Our blood on their plutonium muzzles.
Maybe the antidote IS a semi-automatic
brimming with a hollow-tipped Christ.
Freedom was never for free
Those with stars-those without.
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