The American Dream shot the kids in their sleep
before they had a chance to scream
and we made art on the walls
with our hands smeared in all the fucking blood
The city planners bought up their homes
and sterilized the massacre
so they could sell the bodies on postcards
in their glossy new storefront
If I could rip this nation’s heart out, I’d eat it raw
like a fresh kill, but I think it’d kill me first
or we’d just worship its corpse and I’d be left to die of salmonella
They’re selling us the cures for diseases they wrought
and a fresh coat of paint won’t cover up the rot
or stop the fumes rising up from underneath
You don’t need to tell me freedom isn’t free,
the revolution’s buy 1 get 1 on TV
For 20 bucks they’ll throw in a suicide note on a T-shirt
or some pattern of stolen graffiti,
bleached white to remove the stains
The megachurch went on lockdown
when they heard the flood was coming
I bet they’d call the cops on Jesus if he came busting down the doors
I bet the cops would nail him down with bullets and we’d paint our bodies with his blood
because we ran out of wall space
or maybe we’d pour it down our throats
so it turns into cheap liquor
before feeding him to our children,
still gasping for hope as we drown
Photo by Pawel Janiak on Unsplash
