*The Future Says She Loves You*
by Mitch Jones

This boy is my one and only
This boy is my pride and joy
He’s the boy of the future
But can you face the pain when he stares you right in the face
The laser eyes and the pulsating glands
The steel teeth designed to rip apart flesh
And you say the television made him sick

I’m gonna fight the dark skinned terrorists with this boy
Not the patriots who kill in the name of Christ
But those infidel ones who crucified the twin shrines to capitalism
I’m gonna make this boy kill
I won’t be happy until I see veins in his teeth
After all, he’s the latest and the greatest machine
He always follows orders without questioning
And you told me he’s sick from the tv

I’m gonna give him a medal
So all the neighbors can be proud of their native son
They don’t have to know he was born in a metal shop
Their white eyes beam with excitement at the thought of turbans stained with innocent blood
They bake us pies and shower us with wax kisses because it’s Christmas
Their brains are baking in the oven
They’re baking bricks for the crucifix; they’re being whipped by Pharaoh’s stooges
And the television made them sick