These Times

Do we pray in school, can we say the pledge. Separate this from that. The name of the team or the name of the town, The mascot—It all offends somebody, somehow. That flag is hateful for some…but pride for others. For me simply a car and two guys that you cheered on, To go fast and jump high—all in good fun. Arguments over birth certificates and war records, I don’t care, just want to know if you can get the job done. We are not playing cowboys and Indians here anymore. We have to look over our shoulder— The threat of war is every day and it is real. This is the land of the free and the home of the brave, So that is what they say…more like… The land of thieves and home to the chickens… We have let roam free and Peck away, at our hard earned dollars every day. Stop monopoling money under the table, Making trades for parking and passes on jail--and Collecting two hundred dollar for standing at a corner. When caught in their own webs of deceit, There is a show and everyone peeps. It is all sad, but all true And part of the government game... People are People and they cannot get along or Even---Agree to…disagree. It would be nice if there was some couth and truth. But that seems so very far away… These are our times…and we…We…Need To Be the People... Copyright © fonda anne….mooreofme....mamao