CRUMBLING VALUE

This land is mad, it’s gone astray,

Allowing evil – to have sway;

Morals have gone, gave way to none,

Foundations crumbling – all for fun;

Despicable goals sought by bad,

To turn a lass into the lad;

Babies piled on the pyres of hell,

While their loose mothers say, ‘Oh, well!’

Party on, lads, the coast is clear!

We’ll subjugate all, make them queer;

We will burn this damn old parchment,

To which some still have sentiment;

And do everything as we please,

Get rid of all – embrace the fleas!

This land, a good riddance to it!

We’d rather sit in piles of s_it;

They’ll party on – bring the house down,

Destroying bastions – as they clown.

PTR February 1, 2012