Mad Hatter
Pants on Fire
Liar liar
you know the rest
all night becomes new day
turn inside out everything that swore it would love you true
on the broken down highway
that leads to a vital future….
People with mud in their heads instead of brains
speak loud about the war against terror
and when I check my blood’s origin
I begin to uncontrollably giggle.
The bill is going to continually be paid
and at the same time it is going to ride even higher
toward a sun that will burn it all.
My government, a rowdy group of puppeteers and stage managers,
directing everyone in all their moves.
Or trying to, anyhow.
Bring me something drinkable.
Bring me something with a beating heart inside it.
Yesterday, the anniversary of 911.
The number they make you call when all hell breaks loose.
Call that number now.
The people running this country down into the ground are certainly all hell broken loose.
One big strip tease number.
There they go, coyly taking off this part of their clothes, then that.
Please make the terror go away and not come back.
Please Mr.War President Macho Man.
The parking lot is full of smoking cars that do not know how to run.
They say you must stand at attention to be recognized.
The bodies are falling from the sky, baby,
and one day they just might reach out for us.
Bring me some endurable.
Bring me something that can take it.
Falling through the looking glass.
Alice isn’t alone anymore.
The Mad Hatter is wearing a War Helmet.
The Tea Party is on baby, and you better dig the one flavor they are cramming down your
throat.
---Scott
Wannberg
---Scott Wannberg |
