pomes of buddy don: flypaper

Flypaper

Flypaper, flypaper, what have you caught
In your sandy flats, your glutinous gore?
Could it be terrorists that you have got
Pinned down in the central front of the war?

No, I catch whomever should come my way –
Those dug in here have no choice but to stay.

Flypaper, flypaper, who comes and goes
Across the borders of your sticky plains?
Who is set free to flee from the last throes,
From the hard labor of freedom's birth pains?

Those who know me know where I don't stick –
They know the ways of the dead and the quick.

Flypaper, flypaper, what can you mean?
Some get to exit while we must remain?
Have our best intentions been smashed between
Our dreams of freedom and your bloody stain?

No, you don't know me, that is your curse –
You came to do good but everything's worse.

Flypaper, flypaper, please let us go
We have errands elsewhere, great deeds to do
The blessings of freedom, we must bestow
To others once we are freed from your goo!

How could you think you wouldn't get stuck?
When you sent your forces into my muck?
How can you not understand your reward?
If you live by the gun, you die by the sword.

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