My Armalite, my Armalite, is a right!
Gun control, or mentally ill, don’t make me laugh or bite,
Guns to the left! Guns to the right!
Surely aren’t we just, “splitting hairs”?
No city gangs, nor ISIS neither, not even those beyond the Walls,
Just angry males, shooting churches, schools, and malls,
Half a league onward! Half a league more!
Tearing at bodies and splitting skulls,
Where are all the women’s wrath and might?
To guns, don’t girls too have a right?
Guns abound, guns all around!
Don’t both sexes, hairy situations surround?
Yet no longer in Eden be,
For eaten from the Knowledge Tree have we,
Guns are MY RIGHT, says he!
Splitting hairs, spitting spite; we argue to and fro to fright!
‘Cause does it matter if we know,
Or just naively argue so,
Into the mouth of Hell we go,
Hairs rising on each students’ arm and neck,
As gunman walks the hall,
Behind each door and wall,
Stormed with shot and shell…
Into crosshairs our children go,
Hot shells hitting on the floor,
Ting, ting, ting, then two more,
Creeping nearer to the Jaws of Death,
Over every hiding head of hair…
Spewing bullets fly through room, they poor,
Shredding papers, books, desks and door,
As all the world wondered,
Splitting wisps of hair, nearly missing heads,
Piercing flesh and bone that so,
Too many never home will go,
And into the Valley of Death,
Vacant eyes now stare at air,
No more guns! Pray be Congress told,
Yet “no” jeer those with friends to hold,
Just one had blundered!
But hey, now you’re “just” splitting hairs.
Now even more implore,
With no more heirs, no longer can we spare,
Honor the children that have bled,
No splitting hairs!!!