Like God amassing gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh,
vain potentates, possessed by pride that riches will confer,
depleted pillaged villages in pagan days of old…
With penetration privileges, their fortunes were foretold.
In feudal times, chaste clerics, cloaked, wrapped rings around the mind
with hymns of magic, mystic myths and figurines enshrined,
while blessing bayonet-like blades that mutilate and maim…
With penetration privileges, believers bore no blame.
In search of caramel colonies, some sailors set their sails
to conquer puppet provinces, for sovereignty prevails,
purloining wicked treasure troves which others claimed their own…
With penetration privileges, such sins sustained the throne.
Well, nowadays the quest proceeds, this time for ebon oil,
so peoples once again are caught within the serpent’s coil
and, pierced by fangs of greed and lust, death yields benign escape…
With penetration privileges, you’re free to rip and rape.
We wave the flags and beat the drums and often kneel to pray
to glorify our victories, bold, that happen far away;
but none salute the severed souls impaled upon a pike…
With penetration privileges, the riffraff look alike.
One day the moguls won’t agree on how to slice the pie;
they’ll spit and spat and, tit-for-tat, atomic barbs will fly -
but when the button’s finally pressed, they too will grace the heap…
With penetration privileges, the hole that’s hewn is deep.