Tribal warfare seems so out of fashion,

when on can nuke one's neighbours on a whim,

I see no need for patriotic passion,

or poison apples hanging from a limb.

So since you have your trillion, why be greedy?

for once I wish you'd close the store at night,

and walk the streets in search of people needy,

you wronged the past, now make the future right!

You watch the world from pristine penthouse windows,

I ask that you look down upon the meek,

as they stand their in dole queues, dusty windrows,

yet self-respect would gain them what they seek.

It's guilty - yes, you are! You take no action!

As children die and summer heat waves stalls,

I realize you heed no bleeding faction

your name is legend in the Hero's Halls.

But cop my spit, you bastard, feel it burning,

contempt for you will lift me to new height,

I'll write and they will read and keep on learning,

until the day they rise to put things right.

So spare me droll excuses, you star fucker,

as you have everything, yet crave for more,

but when you stand at Peter's Gate don't pucker,

no kisses wait in Heaven for a whore.