The Government A puppet master pulling our strings If the puppet master was an angel Long ago, God would have clipped those wings It's Hell on Earth George Bush has made it worst Since his presidential birth While he's dropping bombs over baghdad He's slowly killing my dad Taxing him to death Hell, he's practially working for free And the more money I make The more the puppet master take Leaving barely enough money left for food to feed me Our Government is the puppet master Who keep finding new ways to screw us faster and faster Dry With a 2 by 4 And no vaseline Miss one tax payment on your house Puppet master will take your shit from you, no doubt And will come out smelling like a rose and sqeaky clean But who can we call? A doctor? A lawyer? An Indian chief? Hell no! Cause they work for this theif! The puppet master Master of turmoil and disaster Won't repent Won't reveal to us how our tax dollars are being spent FICA takes huge chunks of our paychecks Leaving our pockets lined with lint Leave us wondering where our money went The puppet master gets paid, and we can barely pay our rent They send our fathers Our brothers Our uncles Our cousins Our nephews And our sons To fight in their wars On foreign lands, dodging bullets and crawling on all fours Something the puppet master is never willing to do When our loved ones are blown to peices, bit by bit The puppet master don't really give a shit And could care less which body part belong to who Then, all of a sudden, our dead loved ones become heroes Because they died fighting for a bunch of useless nothings And a lot of nadas, zilches and zeroes Our men get sent against their will Then they get killed Because it's what the puppet master ordered But our men of honor would be jailed in a heartbeat Just cause they stood on a corner and loitered The strings belong to the puppet master AKA The Government Should we just shut the kcuf up and take a hint? Or should we buy a vowel and get a damn clue? It doesn't really matter The puppet master controls everything we do!
Reason for writing:
In this poem, I'm venting my frustration over how effed America really is. God blessed it but men cursed it and greed has taken a toll on us all. I know someone else is feeling me on this. Hopefully, I've expressed some frustration of others.
Birth sign: Cancer
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