Freedom Fried

He’s
seen us
trade our stars for bucks
and for entertainment,
tonight

Our Steinbeck’s for Situations
Our Bukowski’s for bukakkes
Our Rumi’s for more room
Our Watt’s for more watts
Our philosophies for aristocracy
Our sovereignty for our security
Our security for our sanity
Our sanity for our vanity
Our dignity for our destruction
Our imperfections for erections
Our elections for our deception
Our substance for the saccharin
Our dictionary's for distractions
Our conversations for convenience
Our reality for television
Our television for truths
Our truths for lies
Our lies for fact
Ourselves for hors d'oeuvres
Our appetizers for meals
Our spirit for a noun
Our egos for all there is, and
Our Mother for a pile of shit

And all the whores cry diamonds
And all the pimps bleed gold
If this story ends today
Let us hope
It’s never
told.