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America, oh, America
Land of the once free
Home of the formerly brave
Storms at your gate
Blazing sun, wind blown fires
Still you are proud
Beat your chest will you?
Fight those God empowered to wound you?
To wake you from your insanity?
Still you murder your babies
For money, for convenience
And those who would lead
Like boys in the school restroom
Brag of who has better hair

The Almighty is not amused
He is broken-hearted for you
That you are murdering your inheritance

The Civil War was flatulence in the wind
The Depression a sneeze
Puny next to what is upon you
A gaping maw of carnage and shame
Oh America weep!
Won't you weep, humble yourself!
Why worsen the blow?
The Almighty's hand is upraised
Raised to strike
To deliver redemptive but stern discipline
But it belongs to One who is merciful
Tens of millions of babies sacrificed
How can he show mercy
When you show no remorse

Stephen Pursell, 9/04