A sly squirrel peddled bright tulips with glee,
But his cash stash was shady as can be.
The IRS came—what a fright!
He buried his bucks overnight,
Now he’s rich… in acorns, tax-free!
Propaganda, major tool of the New World
Magazines, news stations, news papers, give us their course
Illusion of free speech
All come from the same source
Banking power elite PRINT currency paper
Trillions and trillions they loan
Pocket trillions in INTEREST for twiddling their thumbs
United States of America changed into United Slaves of America, I groan
Internal Revenue Service their collection agent
All money pays INTEREST on national debt to the banks
While the slaves keep working
Saving for retirement that is eaten by inflation, no thanks
Keep working slaves, this is a Brave New World
Maybe Trump can fix this mess
Follow Constitution, put Bankers in jail
We voters won't accept anything less
Internal Revenue Service At the Door
By Elton Camp
It is a fate too frightful even to mention
If you somehow should get his attention
Might as well comply if he demands loot
For his power is very close to absolute
At the rights of taxpayers he will just sneer
From him you have a very great deal to fear
He is ugly, vengeful and disgustingly mean
And just loves to threaten to slap on a lien
Even if it’s innocent your mistake has been
He will behave as if it is actually a major sin
The power that he wields over citizens’ lives
Other government agencies to envy drives
So here are the words that taxpayers most fear
“Your return’s selected for audit this year.”
The agent may quickly tell what it’s about
“That you cheated on taxes, there’s no doubt.”
“But even if I am unable to prove your crime,
For the past ten years, I’ll audit ‘em each time.”
“And if any trouble about me you should give,
I’ll audit your future returns as long as you live.”
If, because I wrote this, auditing does bring
Don’t waste time as you won’t find a thing
Before I became a Super Hero,
I was a guy working a normal job,
Just trying to collect a few zeroes,
But when I got paid, I always got robbed.
There was a not-so-secret group of thieves,
Who got to my money before I did,
Kiling my pockets and making me grieve
For myself, as tears streamed from my eye lids.
When they gave it back, it was not enough
To purchase exactly what I needed,
So this meant that times were meant to be tough,
And was how I would always be treated.
There was a culprit that made me nervous
Named The Internal Revenue Service.
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