If I don’t have to be awake,
Fuck you, and your world.
The west, where the sun sets, is death.
The sun, born in the east, dies in the west.
Fuck you, and your death world. Your endgame.
and their conservative think tank sugar daddies,
play up the myths. Round and round they go,
manifesting their death destiny again and again.
Fuck your west, your myth of independence, of frontier testing.
You genocidal zombies! Look at the bodies you shot, you infected!
Don’t just step over them, on your way to California, to Oregon.
Look into the seeping pus from the wounds you brought on.
Wake, wake into the west.
I won’t. If I don’t have to be awake, I will not. Fuck you.
And your ten gallon hats.