There’s poison in the streets,
Wafting through the air,
Belching out its wishes for the world to stop and stare.
Cameras lend their flashes
To the tears that fall like ice
From the thronging crowds who mourn the loss of tyranny and vice.
Reporters bark their stories
While the guns ring out like bells
And the portrait of an autocrat a chilling story tells.
And all the while we clamor
Thanking God that’s not our life
As we bend the knee to MTV and democratic strife.
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