disarmament is an alarming bargain. i'm an artist. so i'm not about to

disarmament is an alarming bargain. i'm an artist. so i'm not about to get a gun and start guarding the banks. 
there are marketable memoirs. they're here. they're ready for the harvest, but thus far, the parchment is blank. 
this song i'll dedicate to the domesticated disabled parrots, to the babies in a bicycle basket (i'll be looking for a crib and a carriage). someone save another one-color new york yankees hat for me. tell western union, citibank, and hsbc... 
this country is under construction. 
men shoveling gravel may marvel at their function. 
their children will be schooled in consumption. 
god have mercy on their souls. 
training to become accountants without allowance or without allowing time for writing poetry but perhaps for climbing mountains if there's something to be cut up and sold at the top. this year better be a good crop. 
i've watched families gather to wash their clothing in the creek. i can't sleep. 
i don't really want to know how much money they're barely living off of a week. 
civil war is ancient. 
it ended in the 90s. 
no one remembers so no one is talking. 
a rare conversation in a generation of secrets. 
no one wants to be the one to break such silence. 
we all know the program. 
ain't nothing in this life like citizenship that comes for free. 
so i'll see you in the next one. 
good luck on your path to becoming me. 
i talk english. 
i talk english. 
we'll all talk english. 
'cause i talk english.