Setting here watching it all blow in.
Buckle up boys and girls,
That strong breeze,
Was simply the warm-up act.
They never seem to grasp,
That those of us who were indoctrinated,
And taken behind the curtain for a time,
Can smell them like it was yesterday’s barracks party.
God made the oaks.
We the People, the ropes.
History repeats, tyrants.
The window for repenting, is rapidly closing.