They (know who they are)
They’d make love and that’d be it. A cup of coffee and on to the next piece of tit.
They’d make love and that’d be it.
A cup of coffee
and on to the next piece of tit.
They’d round off bills and borrowing
into but money.
Words into something only to call your honey
(oops! I forgot — this shouldn’t be funny!).
They’d make grown men, slaves.
Government ad-ministered.
The rest well-behaved, ready to wave,
the mental patients off
(Heil happiness! Without a sputter or cough!).
They’d make wars but
interventions.
Strikes and protests but
conventions.
“Want another cuppa?”
They’d make memory but
a few well-timed tears.
Celebrations,
momentary lapses of fear.
The only way to keep the tables clear.
“Drink up — Cheers!”
They’d make being young but
a time before your older
Fashion, a follow me,
hey, there’s not much to shoulder!
They’d make ignorance a virtue
but call it by another name.
They’d make it a law that
there’s always another to blame.
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
They’d dam up all the rivers
(only they’d know how it figures).
Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
They’d clear up all our livers.
They’d give hell a better name
sprinkle out to all, 15 minutes of fame.
Hey, look at him!
They’d even bring back shame.
They’d make trees grow but straight,
in public, unlawful to hate
(but my how the tongues strain, they can’t wait).
They’d nail down logic into its proper place,
give every mirror a proper face
(my head must be screwed on wrong — what a waste!).
They’d move back the dawn
an hour or two
tell you all that’s wrong with you.
They’d outlaw all foul language
I swear,
but hey! who’d give a f**k (read, care).
Everybody’d have to want to own a house
have 1.3 children, be quiet as a laboratory mouse
and replace their old doodad with a doohickey
at least once a year (or when bankruptcy is near).
They’d research for endless years
so that onions wouldn’t make your eyes cry
(they’d even give bawling babies a sigh).
They’d always make sure to remind you,
it’s not proper to ask why
(why, is it only me that’s not shy?).
They’d try to make the weather
the same every day
(but then, what would they talk about anyway?).
Even, extract from the seasons
all their seasoning
(but I can follow their reasoning).
They’d make all the answers
come none too soon.
They’ve even succeeded in
de-mystifying the moon.
They’d turn water into wine
and turn a profit too.
But they won’t sell you much
fish and bread will have to do,
but don’t ask how it’s done
it might be the end of you.
They’d stuff all hope into
a lottery ball.
Let the world pay just
to watch ’em fall.
They’d make intelligence, just knowing
(my can’t you hear their noses blowing!)
and all comings a going,
nothing left on the table but Spam
and little jars of freckled jam.
They’d take us all for fools
and that’s how they’d rule
(but aren’t we …. stroke that — it’s cruel).
They’d live unleaking, then expire
like a fat firm tire
unburped by a bump,
never roughing the road
just spinning around a point of nothing
to nowhere, god knows I suppose.
They’d move beauty back to center
make every unliving thing better
(but our eyes keep getting wetter).
They’d refer over and over to rights
(what you can get away with is right)
and article 249BS.3 (d),
have the whole world energetically flying kites
thinking they were free
(but having to ask to go and pee).
Yes, it’s done like a deal!
(can’t you hear Orwell and the pigs squeal?)
What we don’t know, we have and they
intend to steal
and they know who they are.
(I can only see them cuz I’m so far….)
In the high branches of the tree
baboons howl
while below lions saunter about
with a scowl.
The zookeepers are getting paid
cashing in
(they know how to put the knife in).
Cuz, they know who they are
and that
the jail bars are ours.