Will we build
a memorial,
a sacred site to help us
remember the loved ones lost,
the human cost
of winning.
Running up the score,
Grim Reaper grinning,
knocking at the door.
More cases than other countries,
more than the next four combined,
more dead than 9/11
and Vietnam
combined.
Winning, winning, winning
all the time.
So go to the beach,
drink some bleach,
mourn the passing of truth.
Gone is the innocence of our youth.
