The Holy American Empire

The holy American Empire
     has risen in full glory.

Art Deco rules the world,
     stucco houses lean;
     english tongue forced
     down throats so clean.

Columbia, your mistress,
     graciously robes in
     tattered clothes.

The old roadside teahouse
     entices the exhausted
     commuters with savory
     dollar-menus accosted.

Caffeine blitzes when
     all is bright and
     cocktail tap-outs
     when all is right.

Close your eyes and sleep,
     from frontier to
     superior in one week--
          fatigue makes your
          artists minds bleak.

Your loyal colony states
     beckon and beckon:
     'you started this,
     you finish this.'

'This' referring to civil
     wars and insurgency,
     to famine and oppression,
     to bleeding states
     waiting for a tax-free
     charity hand.

The Apostolic Theatre runs
     around, comedy all
     night, every night ...
     insane wardrobe ...
     help us ...

Our Empire has risen to
     show the world that
     Sundays are for funerals
     and the NFL too.

...

Its all cosmetic any how,
     your neighborhoods cry
     for a face-lift and
     grey hair spouts only
     in the afterlife.

Show them all how we
     may live as one and
     withstand change forever more.
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