Shortcuts to the motherland, 'cause "fatherland's" too sere,
nazi-like in implication, homeland security-like in 're-education,
shortcuts to its digitization. enfeebling the popalace of a grieving nation.

The fuse of a dollar, the bomb of a c-note, determines the casting of the next dice thrown
When there's no one there to buy, and the leaders fall from high,
you'll learn to grow fresh veggives underneath your patch of sky.

Little steps by little men, engaged by women, who knew they can
prodded by dreams of children raised
in highest hopes of our better traits.
To produce the best of a land once again,
is as patriotic as it might ever get.

Raise your notes on high, alone,
raise your voices, one by one,
the chorus soars to win anew.
a fresher bright beginning
to a new and better you.

I'll be there to cheer you on,
indulged by fascination,
knowing that we stand together
or fall as a once-great nation

Shortcuts to the bastion
of all we've cherished thus
well, can we march together,
I'm first on the freedom bus.

You must exceed unproductive words,
with glib divided praise,
what's at stake is nothing less
than these United States.

The call of glory reaches out,
it's at your home, let there be no doubt.
There is no more noblesse oblige
you're next to be taken out.

Answer all, this call of Man,
to freedom's reach you must and can.
As always as it's been before,
the same old friends will open their doors.

Mend your fence and mind your friends,
your need is clearly in the present tense.
Stand up and ask for help today,
and see how fast it's on the way.
But ask as if you mean it now,
and not "sometime, somewhere somehow."
Now blather on with blarney, tell tall tales throughout the night,
you will accomplish nothing beyond multiplying
this horrific civic blight.
Gather all your skirts and shirts, answer this, your call,
to put it all quite bluntly, your backs are now against the wall.

Who Have They Told?