the traditions of time should be convicted of Treason;

On three-day-weekend, holiday breaks

    baby-boom daddies grillin' up nitrates and steaks

    in traditions assigned upon tragedy -

this social terrain's havin' small tremors & quakes

    in soil sans faults, so they say, allegedly,

    anchored by American Values & crucifix stakes.

Customs come accustomed to, as outlined in the majority rules 

    -may as well trust 'em, our founders weren't fools!

such blessed events call for holidays,

    for great celebration, distraction, for ruse-

since Colonial days it's been most common of ways

    for keepin' the masses amused on their stools

    and spendin' their taxes in a frivilous daze:

as for appeasement, 'tis most successful of tools.

When your cards are called out & your One-Eyed Jack bails,

    your pokerface bluff miserably fails

    to hypnotize cesspools of unsatisfied masses

    our mass transit Amtraks run clear off their rails,

to reinstate the illusion, they're refunded their passes,

    excluding, of course, the uniformed males

who are ordered to kiss bare Congressional Asses

    and dismiss damning waste in executive pails.

On luxurious, long-weekend, Labor Day breaks,

    out of sheer inbred habit, you do what it takes

    to preserve ritualism, that adolescent glow

    of July 4th fireworks over American lakes,

    of Thanksgiving dissapointment as the wishbone breaks.

Don't dig for reasons, just go with the flow,

    for a day out of work, you'll do what it takes!

Take for example, ole Matrimony,

    a most prized possession, so pious & phony,

at the end of the aisle, rash procession of Death,

    where cedar'd suffice for a King or a crony,

    they've no way to object, since they've drawn their last breath-

respect their last wishes without wastin' your money

    on a self-serving token - it's all you'll have left.

One day's set aside 'cause them Injuns are dead,

    our Imperialist bellies, with their lands, are well fed-

one's outta spite for presumptuous Jews,

    sayin' "OUR Messiah's come, when's yours? When was it you said?"

    we're takin' no time to hear out your views,

    aren't you a Pinko? a Commie? a Red? -

each day's conception was a well thought out ruse

    brought on by an author, in deception, well-read.

Unless supported with logic, and applicable reason,

    the traditions of time should be convicted of Treason;

with each observation increases our waste

    of time fit for pleasure, but it's the Whigs that we're pleasin',

each celebration brings hooplah & haste,

    with the intent of obscurin' any actual reason

    we fear the Capitalist outcome with which we are faced-

for rational minds, so solution's more appeasin',

    the the traditions of time bein' convicted of Treason.