How will the republic fall?
A raging mob that storms the wall?
Waving Uzi and grenade?
Ransacking through some hallowed hall?
An edict from a balustrade?
Or will it be some mindless war
A tweet, an old unsettled score
A rage ignited
Insult that must be requited
With a brilliant flash, a distant roar
As cities, one then the next, go off
Like roman candles, vanish in a billowing cloud
The ash of buildings, bridges, lives
Falls like snow into the hand
Of the last one who survives
Our very world, our past
Falling like confetti from the sky,
Blown apart at last
Or is it this:
A famine sweeps across a plain
That offers only dust
Where once grew grain
One hundred million cars all fall to rust
Targets now of our blame
Awkward relics of our lust
And greed and shame
The land become a vast
And ghostly grave
Strewn with steel-frame skeletons
Of our wondrous past
Or will it be
Because we chose, of our free will,
A false Messiah to fulfill
A vain and senseless dream
To punish those who did us wrong,
Expel the ones who don’t belong,
Declare our greatness on live-stream,
Lead us through a heavenly door,
“Redeem us, Savior! O redeem!”
And poof, the republic is no more.
For all we hold most dear, that seems
So permanent, so set
All the comforts of our world
Are in truth as delicate
As a glassy crust of ice
That forms upon an April night
In a rain-filled flower-pot
And melts off in the morning light