The Fatty Assassin Poem by Christian Connor Schwantes

What's it like to be caught in war stricken strife
Fearing for child welfare and wife
I wouldn't know because I'm home safe
Only Fox News to get into my brains
Pumping in propaganda
My morals rearranged
So I turn it off, shut it down
Nothing in my house will make a sound
I sit there and I
Count my blessings
Say my prayers
Think of souls in electric chairs
In my mind its
Rat tata tat, rat tata tat, tat
Bullets getting stuck in America's fat
Plump and diabetic, weak and prophetic
The mighty will fall and the fat will roll
This prophecy is not written in scrolls
It's written in menu's and taking its toll
So I sit there and I
Count my blessings
Say my prayers
Think of the souls in electric chairs
In my mind its
Rat tata tat, rat tata tat, tat
Obese humanoids crippled with fat
Poisoned and defenseless, more wings and more stress
No pope could bless this
Look at Memphis
Or stop
Look at the people
See in their faces
Addiction to sugar, obsession with fat
So what general would have a happy meal with that?
Get out of our homes and play with your neighbors
Our hearts are not meant for this mandibular labor