Red-Handed

Sat back with iPads,
Sniffin’ wine caps and
Actin’ through that high
Political rap,
Convincing themselves
Of their cynical scat.
Are they just dreaming,
Trapped in the center
Of their bubble map?

And as the world burns,
That crimson liquid
Ever swills and turns;
Lips stained insipid.

They smile expressions
In feigned pleasantries,
Decrying violence
Far in the distance.
Free from the burdens
Of the lost millions
Drowning in indifference
And complacency.

And as the world burns,
That crimson liquid
Ever swills and turns;
Lips stained insipid.

Our hands stained sanguine;
Drunken lullabies of lies.
Is it blood or wine?

And as the world burns,
That crimson liquid
Ever swills and turns;
Lips stained insipid.

Steve D