The catholic forbidden fruit we crave,
despite our professed vehement horror
and protestations that we can behave,
is the keen appetite we’ve for slaughter.
An emperor's new clothes look at the past,
or an unblinking look at the present,
lets only one conclusion to be cast,
humanunkind find carnage most pleasant.
We’re the he and she who protest too much.
In thought and feeling we crusade for peace,
with slogans of never again a crutch
and naive dreams our lust for blood will cease.
The lessons of the past, it’s nature’s law,
are lost in orgasm of the present’s maw.