Beneath the ticky-tacky, the facade

of goodwill and charm- a wild,

fattening boar with a pit of

no known end

the new lord of the age dressed

in diadems and pearls

a baphomet in a beautiful



the worker, who toils, who

produces, wet with the hot showers

of tear gas wet with the promise of

less wet with the frailty of their wages.

so much is has been taken

that there is nothing left but

to wave the freedom banner

to wave our freedom banner

we will wave

our freedom banner

our red and black flag

we will garnish the beasts

with our red and black flag

we will wave our freedom

banner from the smoking buildings

we will wave our freedom flag.



North America-

the great pimp of continents

boasting rings and gold chains

before the wrinkled hand of its

commodified states

stretched for

the receiving of alms

and molded breads


(the great monument-

casting a scalding shadow)


and when the sun plants its seed

into the furrows

it is met with the hard metal of scythes

and erected despots

digging toes into dirty skin

dropping a little saliva for the thirsty


(the great continent-

rising in a thick plume

of freedom


carving the bellies out of territory

for the god of the market)