I manifest my destiny on top of your now crushed skull.
I wear a gas mask to get my latte, spend my star bucks quick.
Buying moon boots to prove a flag wont flap and wave in space.
Dying my flag with the blood of the indigenous people.
These colors dont run because they carry heavy guns and ammo.
Babies in comoflauge with cognitive baffles and bazookas.
Flaming eagles talons gripping bombs and used heroin needles.
Raining napalm laced with basic hatred and marketable guns.
Radiation and dead children lineing these long bone paved roads.
I smell gun powder clouds lit fuses and waves of ground infantry.
Cannon fodder and shrapnal mobiles spin above fox hole cribs.
Born into war and hatred where we find our job is enslavement.
2006-08-18
16:38:00
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3 answers
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asked by
Anonymous
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Other - Arts & Humanities