We are the new Roman Empire.
And we come prepared, to tread,
On the underdog, with the heel of our boot.
Or crack the beetle of you argument, where there is no escape.
In the shell of your logic, but for some, with their special wisdom.
We reserve, DIY crucifixion, so collect some planks.
And bring forth the screws, a Black and Decker work tool,
With a carpenter or two, all that is left to gather,
Is an angered crowd and to screw up the cross.
Then place up on it, the dearly accused, whether they are guilty,
Or not, we leave that up to you, but the point of the sight,
Is that as you shout for your pound of flesh,
Even though you never asked why such a soul was cross attached,
You just presumed, that they deserved it, and content to curse.
With your low pedigree tongue, and your mongrel reasons.
You throw the first stone, to add insult to injury,
To pay for crime without jury, judge, just plain execution.
We call this a name, we call it persecution, and what was the crime.
If it is indeed known, yes the man said, that the earth and moon,
Revolve around the sun.