Do You Accept Charges

The Man says he’s an Angel

And he’s calling collect

So we pay him our taxes

Then pay again with regret

He’s got nothing to say to us

Just a salesman’s pitch

He’s a self-proclaimed patriot

That’s a bunch of Bullshit...

He’s a fan of himself

More than anything else

Just a kid playing God

Lopping heads, looting wealth

He says, don’t you forget

Worthless fish in my tank

You’ve got citizenship

So be proud and give thanks

Forget not, We tell him

It is your job to listen

He pretends not to hear

And retreats to a distance

Give us Life, demand We

And he sells us more bombs

All our Rights, preaches he

Can be purchased with Wrongs

Reminds us time and again

That there are fights raging on

Yeah,

You got that one straight, motherfucker

We’re going to fight till you’re gone.

Lady Cold

With towels covering all of our van’s windows, the orange glow of a street lamp is kept outside—the cold, it seems, does not play by the same rules. She slips past my carefully placed towels with a boastful grace, so sexy and cool in her approach that my nipples stand erect in awe.