The vipers of evil are spawned in cesspools,
By moral fools with the best of intentions,
Transforming all mankind into their vassals,
Constructing hells from dreams of heaven.
A ripe apple grew from the Tree of Life
In the Garden of Eden, so red and tempting,
But such succulent sensuality had its price,
The curse of death is the cross of freedom.
Upon a rough wooden crucifix, Christos died,
Yet with his final breath still forgives,
All those who conspired to murder with lies,
In a trial the Pharisees and Romans rigged.
The bomb dropped from the womb of Enola Gay,
Sowing the steel seed of our sinful victory,
Turning the sun black and darkening the day,
Staining with shame, the annals of history.
The rotting carcass of a shot British soldier,
Hangs from a tree like an over ripe fig,
Murdered in the streets of the Jewish quarter,
So Palestine will die and Israel may live.
No comments:
Post a Comment