Propaganda Song

There’s a hurricane for everyone
-a global warming inside all of us-

Our king is a big box
of cold domestic beer
Our nation,
a country of cock dust

& I’m not even sure why I fear
the means & methods of the cure
when it’s all just the same otherwise
We just have to live and let lie

There’s a wall to be paid for by Mexicans
-A Great white picket fence for America-

& I’m not even sure why I care
the cure will become our next fear
& It’s all just the same otherwise
we just have to live and let lie

From the shores of the rust belt I watch
angry-men toss’d about on the docks
as the bitumen rivers rise
uplifting their bodies to sky

& I’m not even sure why I care
the cure will become our next fear
& It’s all just the same otherwise
we just have to live as we die