The following views expressed
Do not necessarily reflect
Those of the prevailing

Order, who prostrate to
Their naked kings, tailor the seams of
Funeral shrouds on foreign shores

But shed no tears for the dead
The dead of the endless list of
Informal wars, the justification for

Will be spelled out
For me, coming soon
To a screen near me
Near you

I'm feeling less hopeful
And so much less human
As my days are reduced to
Little more than

Settling for revenge
And wondering whatever happened to the kid that pledged

Chalk it up to an overdeveloped sense of unbridled vengeance
Somebody fed me too much New Hope for breakfast
'Cause as the empire preemptively strikes back
Again and the voice of Luke's father
Baritones that this is CNN
Recall Arab kids, slaughtered, reduced

To sand niggers and ragheads
And now I'm expected to mourn

Dead Americans?
The executioner's willing citizens
I'm so sorry and I'm trying to think it through
But when the chickens came home to roost

And hand-delivered, and hand-delivered
Matching funeral urns to the bully that never learns
I could have sworn I heard a chorus rise and fall
Wishing them so many more unhappy returns

But in every war waged
Only kings emerge unscathed