When the saints come marching in
Burn them to the ground
For they are not saints at all
They are demons and hounds
They steal from one to give to another
But keep a majority
In order to hover
Slightly above from the ones they take
The ones they bomb
And cause earthquakes
They will tell you it's for the good
But what's good
If I knew, I would tell you, I would
They kill for "justice"
They kill for "freedom"
But only the freedom of the people that agree with them
If you don't like it, get out
If you don't like it, don't shout
You're disgusting if you do
You're a heathen if you disagree
Because the saints have those they have convinced
Of their majesty and innocence
And when you are not decieved
Of their lack of monstrosities and sins
You'll have to take cover
When the saints come marching in
YOU ARE READING
365 days of Ashes
PoetryOne poem a day for the next 365 days. This is my 2017 in two books and 365 poems Some poems are narratives of my life and thoughts, others are complete nonsense; figuring out which is which is the best part.
