I’m Tired, Weary, Fatigued, However You Want To Call It

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I’m tired, weary, fatigued, however you want to call it
This world is tearing itself apart, with no end in sight
Neighbors can’t stand the appearance of each other
If we don’t swerve, we’re all going to face the fiery night
Reject hate, reject them, reject the world’s system
I don’t care if kindness long ago went out of fashion
Don’t accept your options, make your own way
We need return to art, return to love & compassion
‘They’ are anyone who’ll tell you we can’t survive
Without stooping down to unconscionable degrees
Rebel, refuse & reclaim enlightenment & love
Lead ourselves away from their dysfunctional societies
God reserves a place in Hell for those who spout hate
Whether you believe in Christ or what Buddha taught
Love doesn’t see the differences between us
We can do better; a peaceful way must be sought
Politicians are no more than door to door salesmen
Fraudulent purveyors of the American dreamscape
But we, the silent underground, emerging each day
Fed up with their vision, proof that heroes don’t wear capes

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Heading West Like Horace Greeley Once Said

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Heading west like Horace Greeley once said
Returning to our fractured American shores
Shining seas & the purple mountains majesty
No politician could make me cease to longer adore
My love of country goes further than just today
The Antichrist’s heir apparent, blights & plagues
No one person represents our nation’s pride
Not from Washington nor down to the dregs

I’m A Red-Blooded American

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I’m a red-blooded American
Aroused by red meat & microbrews
I enjoy my lazy suburban days
A swinging hammock; dreams of you
The Great Dane snoring beside me
Hunkered down in the cool green grass
It’s far too hot for movement
I wish you were here to wiggle your ass

Fifteen Dollars & A Broken Jaw To Boot

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Fifteen dollars & a broken jaw to boot
Expanding cities complete with souls for sale
Government land, but it’s not something to own
Your identity stolen down a worn migration trail
Pushing eighty-five before the winter sun goes down
Desert road adventures through the land of the free
Missing midnight mass for its not yet that time
Rumors & hints of how much you really mean to me
Your voice remains dry after another weekend
Do you remember the faces of all those left undone
Our days pass on by in those decadent whispers
Though all our remaining years will pass by as one

It’s not a perfect system

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It’s not a perfect system
But it’s the best one we’ve got
I’m not a card carrying member
All criminals, the whole lot
We’re in need of a great leader
The only ones running are crooks
One of these fools will be President
But I’d rather elect Captain Hook