American foreign policy.

Ever since world war two,
The planet is turned by an American screw.
Churning out your version of democracy.
An evil bureaucracy rife with hypocrisy.
What can an ordinary person do?

They get you one way or the other.
Have the planet on a skewer.
Cold war, Korea, Vietnam.
Follow history but don’t understand.
Unnecessary wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Drone strikes in Yemen and Pakistan.
Absolutely no respect for our fellow man.
What about the shame that is Palestine Israel?
Trade deals and embargoes that bring utter hell.

But the high tide mark has come and gone.
We are on to the American loaded gun.
You are aware of our dignified existence.
For we are united in our resistance.

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What is all your furniture pointed at?

War is the constant.
Humans are infant.
All on the same path.
What is your furniture pointed at?

Sitting in the corner.
Around everything you fit.
Using up all natural bandwidth.
Eternally ready for that one-way chat.
What the fuck is all your furniture pointed at?

They locked up my Dad.

The year was 1971.
Northern Ireland was far from fun.
Catholics were denied civil rights.
Many people decided to fight.
The army came for Dad one night.
A supposed member of the republican jihad.
The British government locked up my Dad.

To the H-Blocks or even Long Kesh.
A life behind concrete and wire mesh.
No judge or jury, only corrupt government.
That led to my Dad’s internment.

Did they treat you rough Dad?
Did they feed you properly Dad?
Did you miss my mum Dad?
Did you miss your family Dad?
These questions I asked him as he lay dying in his bed.
Answers to these questions he would not shed.
Such a man, so strong, so brave.
He took it all with him to the grave.