As the talking heads blabber

O’er the freshest cadavers

With fingers all pointing away


They churn out excuses

For heinous abuses

Who will be the scapegoat today


They submit all their answers

Like impeccable dancers

Coming down to a resounding “Not me”


Why is it just here

Is so riddled with fear

When we have the least reason to be


Be it a man

With nefarious plans

Or the ease with which he gets a weapon


We must drive for solutions

With fierce resolution

Or we might as well say that we let them


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