My weapons of words,and my guns spit verbs,
and my bullets hit more than bone, tissue and nerves,
my caps will spray all over your conscious,
they won't stop you but they'll make you stop the non-sense,
and when I rage war it sounds like a thousand symphonies,
and when I drop bombs they explode into epiphanies,
creating craters of knowledge over you mental land scape;
and my soilders don't rob, pillage or rape...
they elate, titalate, fascinate,
cause a little controversy and get shit straight.
I'll reign down airstrikes of elevated thought over your low self-esteem
and blow the ghost of your self-doubt straight to smithereens...
I'll invade your intellectual capital and implement your new government,
to make sure the emotional attachments that you paid are properly spent,
and yes the taxes must be paid, how else could you afford the parade,
to celebrate your new independence day?
So take care of your new nation and realize that there is no comparison or relation
between your puny weapons of mass destruction and MY GREAT WEAPONS OF MASS CREATION...