The Higher Dysphoriocracy in a Nutshell

The planes bring their bombs and more bombs,
plane after plane after plane;
Guerrillas creep out of their holes
and take away all that we gain.

Napalm is jellified gas;
it clings and it burns as you flee.
A village destroyed is one saved,
and the people, they burn to be free.

A cell is a hole where McCain
proved a man's soul could stay whole,
And Hell is a hole for a man
who when saved only sells his own soul.

The dead live again in the speeches
of those who think more men should die;
Like good money thrown after bad,
the dead help the State sell its lie.

Torture alone is our savior;
Our Savior says "Better dysphoria
Engendered by glowsticks in Gitmo,
than to let mullahs rave in Peoria."

The Man Horizontal we value,
though Vertical Man's just a schmuck;
The State builds stone mansions for one,
while the other is shit out of luck.