• Happy pride month, xisters of the schlog!

Say something your profile picture would say

From the millionaires to the scared little people who attend the endless pitiful “conservative”, “100% American”, “old-fashioned”, “constitutional”, “states rights”, meetings, I learned by bitter experience, that the human material of the right wing consists 90% of cowards, dopes, nuts, one-track minds, blabber mouths, boobs, incurable tight-wads and worst of all, hobbyists, people who have come to enjoy a perverted masochistic pleasure in telling each other forever how we are all being raped by the “shhh- - - you-know-whos,” but, who, under no conditions, would think of risking their two cars, landscaped homes, or juicy jobs to DO something about it.
 
A Butcher yes that was my trade
But the King's shilling is now my fee
A butcher I may as well have stayed
For the slaughter that I see
And the preacher in his pulpit
sermon, "Go and fight. Do what is right"
But he don't have to hear those guns
And I bet he sleeps at night
And I
Andi, can't stop shaking
My hands won't stop shaqking
My arms won't stop shaking
My mind won't stop shaking
I want to go home,
Please let me go home,
Go home
And I have seen a friend of mine,
Hang on a wire like some rag toy
And in the heat the flies come down
And cover up the boy
And the flies come down in
Gommecourt, Thiepval,
Mametz Wood, and French Verdun
If the preacher he could see those flies
Wouldn't preach for the sound of guns
And I
And I can't stop shaking
My hands won't stop shaking
My arms won't stop shaking
My mind won't stop shaking
I want to go home
Please let me go home
Go home
 
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