Letter from America

The dead are gone/ The living are who matter/ This, this is what matters/ I will build a monument on bones/ I will drain rotten flesh from coffin/ Because my money comes from the living/ not from the dead/ Do you know how the meat is made/ How the cow is slaughtered/ I’ve fed you pharmaceuticals for fattening/ I’ve had investments in war and in peace/ I know what feeds my family/ The dead are gone/ Fuck a burial ground/ Fuck your heritage/ Fuck your culture/ Fuck your ethnicity/ It’s all about money/ That’s the language I speak/ Fluent in every currency but I prefer the dollar/  Fuck your sex/ Fuck your gender/ Fuck your religion/ It’s about me/ Its about mine/ And I’ve had my pockets filled deep with mines/ I’ve come to your home/ I’ve taken your furniture/ I’ve taken your upholstery and flooring/ Left just the frame/ And you still call me the land of the free and home of the brave/ Fuck that/ This the land of the mighty dollar bill/ That’s my God.

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