Wicked

Remote from the equator, remote from all light Lie victims in the hands of an angry man Who sees law as wet clay, who sees the will of the people not at all And the spring rainshower of life’s bounties as crowbars The glory of one man erected like a pyramid upon bullet-riddled bodies and graves An infidel, casting a midnight fog over the landscape A black-magic sorcerer, spouting ancient wickedness and spells of confusion Commanding an army patriotically blinded to all but the dark light Immolating their countrymen for a moment of warmth Raping their wives for a moment of pleasure Sacrificing their country so he might be their king in the moment before its fall History will set them on Libra’s ethereal scale next to devils and hobgoblins And other fantastical beings of evil They will be cursed in the name of a holier authority Mountaintall bears will rend every ligament of their being To the smallest indivisible jots In this life or another