A bullet etched with memes, a casket shrouded in lies,
Martyr’s blood soaks soil where tomorrow’s tyrants rise.
They hoist his name on banners above the fractured land,
While freedom bleeds, forsaken by democracy’s last hand.

The dispossessed go thirsting for compass, creed, or cause,
But bow before false idols that absolve their flaws.
Millions cast aside by the industry’s cold command,
Now kneel as willing offerings that wealth and power planned.

A casualty of war, the party hacks cry,
A nation’s flag at half-staff flutters in the sky,
And Air Force Two bears home the sanctified dead
To sate the raw hungers that grievance has bred.

“The radical left!” they shriek as torch and script align,
Turning the wreckage of democracy to grand design.
Though all the evidence reveals a far-right seed—
Who needs the truth when vengeance is their creed?

“Human contaminants” they mark for death—
The artists, gays, and those denied a final breath,
The vulnerable, the poor, and those of a darker hue,
All sacrificial lambs for their red-white-and-blue.

They speak of Jesus while they sharpen swords,
Twist sacred texts to serve their earthly lords,
Where hypermasculinity meets the cross,
And Christian love becomes a bludgeon for the lost.

The institutions crumble, order overrun,
Censors rewrite freedoms, erasing one by one,
While Congress brands dissenters and all who won’t repent—
Democracy’s last whisper succumbs to scripted punishment.

So raise your saint of rage atop his cold and gilded throne,
Let kirk-bells toll midnight for every bitter seed he’s sown,
For in his mythic death, the movement claims its sharpened might—
And all-consuming darkness swallows democracy’s last light.

The slow devouring of a nation’s heart has just begun—
A fabled America, gnawed to sinew till its dream is done,
By zealots chanting greatness with fervor that implores,
While trading in retribution, lies, and wars to settle scores.

Which gods are left to worship in these temples built by fear?
What prayers are left to whisper once compassion disappears?
The martyr’s blood cries vengeance from the altar of the state,
While Christian love lies crucified upon a cross of hate.