Sundown in Fallujah, City of Red;
Uncounted the wounded, unnamed the Dead.
Who will bear your grief?
"Not I" speaks the Commander-in-Chief.
Slaughtered humanity adorning this jewel;
A trophy perverted, so twisted, so cruel.
Who will cry for you?
"Not I," croaks the voice of the Ancient Old Fool.
Black gold running crimson in a river of tears,
Applause from the Moral, approval and cheers.
Who bears this blame, O Thou Anointed One?
"Not I," smirks the Sacrileged, Fortunate Son.
Hell's holy fires burn deep through the night;
The Red, White and Blue in all of Her might.
Who will make you whole again when all your tears have been shed?
"Not I" laughs the Murderer, "Humpty Dumpty is Dead."
Your flowers now wilted, your candy spoilt rotten;
Cheer-up you poor fools, you'll soon be forgotten.
"But who speaks for me?" baby Insurgents' cries plead;
"Not I" speaks the Serpent, cloaked in Power and Greed.
Your country felled down by Liberty's Lies;
We laughed and we danced and ate Freedom Fries.
Who pays the price? Retribution is due.
Is it Allah or Jesus, tell me, who'll redeem you?
Dedicated to Elsie, who has cried with me.