There was that point I thought it still could be saved That if I picked it up and breathed into it The conversation would live. And then he said," You don't know what the hell you're talking about." He followed with a slimy twisted diatribe about laziness Or was it entitlement and hard work. It made my head hurt with spin and catch phrases. He was starting to foam In the corners of his mouth. And then he flipped the switch. "And if it takes a dictator and weeding people out To restore America again, then so be it." I saw the ticker tape parade of patriotism Running through his mind With boots stomping on those who disagreed. I could smell the tobacco and barbecue He and his friends would consume voraciously From the bones of brown babies. There was no saving this one The stench of death was too strong And I had no shovel with me.