An alabaster

Pal or bastard

Who can ever tell

When our maladaptive

malefactors

Look like someone else

Wonderberry wonders and an

Army filled with time

What about their pantheon of

Shady sinful knights

The suicidal

Pseudo-cycles

That we all design

The ill-reputed

Institutions

We all hide behind

Womanizing whispers and an

Air of tortured love

What about their marathon of

Staying on their thrones and fucking

Freedom

And not the bullshit kind

With owners free to beat their slaves

And slaves feel free to hide

Liberty

From all these bullshit lies

Where the people are free to be who they are

And the monsters forced to hide

Watercolor wisdom

That’s so quickly washed away

What about the weary whites

Who’ve long since had their day