Final Retribution
by Nevada Kerr

He's the small man with the big God for a bodyguard
The only clean-cut bomber in the suicide squad
He jumped the border when the Devil got caught
Providing desert hands with the implements of war
And exposing sacred lands for the Rapture catalogs

He's got his roving eyes on some humanized cogs
Putting faith in sinking martyrs stinking up the bogs
He picks up the foul odors of overworked cadaver dogs
After releasing plague spoors in the heavy London fog
And the factory farm prisons of infested Dixie hogs

He promised Heaven's angels the sky would rain fire
Over terror bands with surreptitious plans and buyers
He's an infidel soldier and cannon fodder candidate
Counting counterstrikes for a second date with hate
Serving up the final retribution in case the Second Coming's late

Written by © Nevada Kerr
1st October 2001.