Unredacted Redactions

Then came the checkers of the facts Patting themselves on the backs Moccasin minds that leave no tracks Piling up rumors in stapled stacks. It matters not whether pro or con They all sing a slightly twisted song A mantra that makes the right seem wrong Or at least filtered through an inhaled bong. They’ve all been trained to speak with one voice Forgetting that that is giving up choice And chanting is naught but a lot of noise To drown out the roar of the “preachers” Rolls-Royce. So study the graphs, the charts, unredacted And lean to the side to which you’re attracted But remember the “facts” can all be retracted With the heavy dark lines of those who attacked it. John G. Lawless ©7/24/2022