FACADE AD NAUSEAM

FACADE AD NAUSEAM

Says the Drummer:

Listen to this peace played for you! Swoon over the slapping in of tambourines
these magazines I strum for you. Full Metal Jacketed flights on picked strings of
red tracer light and drums beat with black fire-sticks in sync - the melodious staccato
of firefights. Crackle go the notes under green starlight to a chorus of screams;
background vocals.

Says the Director:

A song written for you! Understand? I will accept that thanks which brims my cup
that I may “Fill ‘Er Up” with refined dark thick; gulped by machine’s thirsty feeding
a nation's quick. While ordering your disband with my sleight of gun “to your land
in peace we come.”

Your surge now, "sorry gotta run..."