Friday, September 30, 2005

just posted this in the ol' pol. forum at 2+2 - reprinted here without that stupid swear filter.

Every once in a while, someone will call me a bitter and angry person because I'm willing to admit GWB is a moron who wouldn't know horseshit from a poor grade of house paint.

I started thinking about that this week. The man has broken into your house - his special interest groups take money out of your pocket - his poor environmental policies poison your wives and children. His simple minded foreign policy has failed to capture the man responsible for 9/11 and he instead started Vietnam II in the Middle east.

So after all this shit, it's like he came into your house unannounced, poisoned your water, hauled your son off to an unjustified war, and helped himself to your checkbook so he can write off another tax break for the wealthy class that the middle class will pay for - he just did this in your home. YOUR HOME and the homes of every decent American.

Then Magoo gets up and says "well, Democrats are just bitter and partisian..." - YOU'VE GOT YOUR GODDAMN DICK IN MY ASS AND YOUR HAND IN MY WALLET AND MY HEAD ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK - WHAT, YOU WANT A FUCKING HUG?

Goddamn right I'm angry...why aren't you?
----------------------------------------

Bob Dylan - Masters of War

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks


You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly


Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain


You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud


You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins


How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do


Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul


And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead


RB

1 Comments:

At 12:08 PM, Blogger Tony said...

Wow dude! You sound like me, keep up the good work.

 

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