They gave us a half-finished product
Expecting us to finish constructing it
With psalms and green paper strips
Barnyard animals lack the opposable thumbs
To create anything that’s not a reflection
Billions herded to florescent death camps
The apocalypse and selfishness of complacency
In capitalist America, job holds down you
Straps down your imperfections to a gurney
And performs abortions with a flag pole
