True Figure
Oh dear sir, please do forgive my “belching”
The world is in disarray, you say “politics” and I see war
but I’m simply a visitor from the back stand
The world is in disarray, you say “science” and I see a boar
Who is no longer such, with its meat on a platter and a body beside, a bundle of scrap reformed
Oh dear sir, please do forgive my “belching”
I’m used to a world where I can imagine many people soar
Such as those who throw objects, and catch them, or great musicians that performed
but I’m simply a visitor from the back stand
And there I see, from the pitcher to the goblet, it was poor
Grimy, gross—no, grotesque is the “land of the free,” and by corrupt demons it is formed
Oh dear sir, please do forgive my “belching”
I have nightmares of a future where figureheads score
the many wrongs they call right, hopelessly removing scrap with scraps, and they stormed
but I’m simply a visitor from the back stand
And one such head chose to yell “fore!”
while its people steadily sunk toward depression, drove them to ice and was scorned
Oh dear sir, please do forgive my “belching”
The citizens, one and all, should cleanse this corruption before
the whole is consumed, burned, and into scrap is torn!
Oh dear sir, please do forgive my “belching”
but I’m simply a visitor from the back stand