Above The Curs

Obama the thug yaps, and yaps.
The lover of nothing claps, and claps.
Americans, reset your traps!

Show anarchs wild that we are done,
Put nasty nothings on the run;
Reason’s heroes, raise the sun!

Collectivists all yap and crawl
Against the capital-ist Wall,
Hating work, and life, and all.

We individuals, we stand;
Above the human curs we stand
And curse them out of our glad land!

Our love of indi-vi-dual rights,
Our love of great creative heights,
Our love of self-lit, steady lights—

It is that love in which we thrive
And keep our hopes and dreams alive,
And never slow, but fiercely drive

Until our golden goals are here,
When love-of-nothing runs in fear,
And yapping thugs all disappear!

The day of man, it is still young;
His reason knows itself the sun;
Our fight, it has just now begun.

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