It is, until it isn’t, till it’s not

Thank goodness that the whole world’s gone to pot

A little here, and a little there, now the seas are boiling hot

It is, until it isn’t till it’s not

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It was, until it wasn’t, now it ain’t

Got a President who cosplays as a saint

The hooded reaper’s coming, but for some reason, he can’t

It was, until it wasn’t,  now it ain’t

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The dream is an illusion till your woke

Got my money on a heart attack or stroke

So much fat goes down his throat, statistically he’ll choke

The dream is an illusion till your woke

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The end is the beginning of the new

With fingers crossed, we hope it isn’t true

This land will burn, it’s just our turn, the actors take their cue

The end is the beginning of the new

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I lied, this whole damn land has gone to hell

It’s not so bad if you don’t mind the smell

Those con men split us deeper still with every Bible sale

I lied, this whole damn land has gone to hell

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Where are the gun-crazed martyrs of today?

Someone to make the voices go away

The FBI is knocking, now I’m  drawn into the fray

Where are the gun-crazed martyrs of today?

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They’re probably standing right outside your door

Or churches or your hometown grocery store

No one here can save us since they all became his whore

They’re probably standing right outside your door

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And there they’ll stand for three years, maybe more

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I wrote this in the hospital waiting room. Art is pain. Shots in both wrists. Can’t play guitar for 2 weeks. I’ll put it to music and play it for you then. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. Next stop? Surgery.