Fuck
is,
The Magna Carta.
Fuck
is,
Two swords drawn.
Fuck
is,
Our solemn blessing
and rich man's porn.
Fuck
is,
the plaintiff cry
of victim's scorn
when left defenseless
to greed reborn.
We pretend
to conquer fences,
our life bleeds dry.
We practice all the trances
to hide the lies.
But when the rhythm
of the fuck comes 'round
who will hold
that hallowed ground.
Who will stand
for poor man's porn,
a slice of bread,
a glimpse of morn,
a wish for peace,
a heart forlorn.
Fuck
is,
our daily bread.
We just have
a different spread.