America, don't work too hard
On guarding my domestic peace--
The evil dwells not very far
In hearts of those, who on their knees
To the almighty dollar pray--
The countless corpses thrown in heaps,
Like ghosts of Jews and Japanese,
And wars don't trouble their sleep,
While shrewd at politics they say
How much they feel, they feel your pain.
America, I am insane
And rightly so, for how could I
Believe in all your sugary lies
That you so generously sell--
America, your inner hell
Is yours alone, it's not mine,
I don't believe your plan divine
And your swift justice for the rich,
I don't believe the words you teach
In churches, families and schools--
Yours is religion for the fools
Who only care for tax breaks--
America, your dream is fake
That crumbles right before your eyes
In mindless murder as you try
To cover up the ugly truth
From the impressionable youth
Who doesn't trust your numbers game--
Tens, hundreds, thousands--it's the same--
It will not bring the dead to life,
And all the culprits sent to fry
Will not replace the ones who died
So senselessly like O.J.'s wife.

                                                            April 23, 1995
                                              --Alexander Shaumyan