Boots on the ground
The mantra of pitch
The cliche resounds in perception
Let’s ditch all reasonable thoughts
And march to the fear that’s
Grinding us all to a near fever pitch
Jihadists in droves wash in with the tide
Riding the wave of dear Allah’s praise
Raise the kalishnikovs mightily high
The whole lot of them are readying to die
Mosques are replete with
Bomb wearing freaks
Check out those chicas in hajibs
Complete with detonating breasts
Of mass disruption
Our induction into the
Flag waving, face saving, fear making
Production, staged by the MAN
With the shifty eyed glare
Who stares at opportunity
Feigning national unity
We’re stooges, you see,
Heeding the call to blind, lady Liberty
While blinding us all.
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