Back again, from the dead,

We slay sheep into the night

The people’s toll is up ahead

All wrongs are made just right


Take aim, scowl, and shoot

Behold a simple, servant class

Hope extracted from the root

Captured, in a dirty glass


Such fear of what to speak

A wave of changing times

No honor among the meek

The worship of willful crimes


A clever farce, a wicked game

Your silence is our strength

Molten minds for us to tame

We peddle lies to any length


Shout the creed and be as one

A collective blare of horns

All reason, be undone

Let liberty stain our thorns

Terrance McNeill