|
Lest we forget scorched earth policies |
|
Of megaton and hydrogen |
|
And taut muscle of an armory that flexes |
|
To show the world we mean business |
|
It's all smiles and handshakes |
|
But who moves to disarm? |
|
We've cheapened time and evolution |
|
To be violently erased is non-fiction |
|
Those summits and peace treaties |
|
Are just worthless words |
|
It's all smiles and handshakes |
|
But who moves to disarm? |
|
Radium, uranium |
|
One more isotope to add the collection |
|
The age of outrage |
|
Has been reasoned into submission |
|
And cries for peace are no longer in fashion |
|
I wonder if we'll see the point through cataracted eyes |
|
Or draw breath from irradiated lungs |
|
And sigh as we exit times seven |
