The Picture of Wickedness

The picture of wickedness—
They cried when they saw it.
Lookie at that Mexican flag—
You know he shouldn’t fly it.

Sitting on a motorcycle,
Riding around a burning car.
And then he rides off—
Perhaps heading to the bar.

Just another rebel,
Mocking our values here.
Thumbing his nose at us,
And all that we hold dear.

They rip them from their families,
They deprive them of their rights.
And if he should protest,
They slam him for his gripes.

The all-mighty government,
In the all-mighty land,
Squashes rebellion
With a heavy hand.