Thanks for the beer
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I shook hands with a politician today
it left my hand oily and sticky to the touch,
he wanted to know my thoughts on the current
state of affairs,
I only went there for the free lunch and beer, I
couldn't care less if he was a Republican or a
Democrat or the king of Persia,
he didn't have answers for what concerned me,
they never do.
but he asked anyway, determined to squeeze the
prune of my heart to know the truth in me, I puked
on him and told him I didn't speak American middle-class,
I don't understand the language,
like an angel's prayer I grunted and groaned and moaned
my indifference to the pile of promises and cotton-candy fluff he
heaped on my plate as I passed through the reception line,
"how do you feel about the war?"
"which one." I asked,
the war on drugs or the war on poverty or the war on corruption or
medical care or campaign contributions or are we talking about the trade wars?
if you're talking about the war on Iraq, well aren't they all the same for all the same reasons?
isn't it all about little men with big dreams of mountains of power and valleys of cash?
what difference does it make?
will you come down to the projects and
promise us a way out of satan's grasp with full
stomachs and clear skin?
will you keep the roaches away and kill the rats
that run across our children in their sleep?
will you talk to the police and get them to treat us
like we live in the good neighborhoods? I doubt it,
so keep your promises Mr. Politician,
they will do nothing for me or mine,
but I do want to thank you for the beer.
J. Masuda (c) 2006
it left my hand oily and sticky to the touch,
he wanted to know my thoughts on the current
state of affairs,
I only went there for the free lunch and beer, I
couldn't care less if he was a Republican or a
Democrat or the king of Persia,
he didn't have answers for what concerned me,
they never do.
but he asked anyway, determined to squeeze the
prune of my heart to know the truth in me, I puked
on him and told him I didn't speak American middle-class,
I don't understand the language,
like an angel's prayer I grunted and groaned and moaned
my indifference to the pile of promises and cotton-candy fluff he
heaped on my plate as I passed through the reception line,
"how do you feel about the war?"
"which one." I asked,
the war on drugs or the war on poverty or the war on corruption or
medical care or campaign contributions or are we talking about the trade wars?
if you're talking about the war on Iraq, well aren't they all the same for all the same reasons?
isn't it all about little men with big dreams of mountains of power and valleys of cash?
what difference does it make?
will you come down to the projects and
promise us a way out of satan's grasp with full
stomachs and clear skin?
will you keep the roaches away and kill the rats
that run across our children in their sleep?
will you talk to the police and get them to treat us
like we live in the good neighborhoods? I doubt it,
so keep your promises Mr. Politician,
they will do nothing for me or mine,
but I do want to thank you for the beer.
J. Masuda (c) 2006
