SICK OF BROOKLYN
When I am in Brooklyn I can tell that every question is answered
By the same liberal tautology.
Gays deserve equal rights;
Equal rights should be applied to gays.
And if you don’t agree we will kill you
Because you are stupid
And don’t understand that the left wing
Dominates the motion
Of a bird sh***ing .
I know what everyone is going to say before he says it
With his Brooklyn twang.
I am reminded of 1969 when we protested against Vietnam
And abandoned the South Vietnamese,
When we sang out against the military-industrial complex
And left ourselves without jobs,
When we sang Beatles songs and Beethoven rolled over
In his neglected genius.
We marched for black rights and when the blacks became bigoted
And wrong we weren’t strong enough to protest their protestations.
Did a lot of drugs.
Thought that was cool.
Until I recognized that my smoking was the ashes of intelligence
And I had become a tool to unhinge my intellect.
I don’t belong in Brooklyn.
I should cross the Brooklyn Bridge and go south
To Alabama where manners have traditions
That find politeness in the handshakes of gentlemen.
I want to be the return of decency and the burial of socialism.
Keep the limousine liberals out of my graveyard.
Bury me in old Virginia or Georgia.
I want to be the next installment of “Gone with the Wind.”
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