In the dustbowl black mud mall
running straight through the bleeding heart
of Washington DC,
between his obelisk and their senate seats,
the traveling evangelists spoke,
softly, politely, loudly,
in comic satire, sometimes in feigned anger, or the
occasionally copyrighted song,
everyone of them like their forefathers before,
seen through the pearly white clouds
perched above, nodding
from Wallstreet, 300-stories to the ground,
forever and ever and ever,
dressed in the home of the free-land of the brave
business causal liberal sheep's clothing,
red-white-and-blue-leading us on.
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