the wolves are at the door

the wolves, the wolves are at the door,
and all the courage you can muster
is a blank face,
the stupefied O of a mouth that's good only
for throwing processed fat at,
and the occasional 5 minutes of tired oral sex;
what stunned hole !

the wolves sport the swords you'll fall on,
pink blobby belly first.
(and you still asking for the free cookie rebate,
now that's a learned gag reflex).
That's command and control for you.

The wolves are at the door,
and god's tests are harshest at night,
and we believe pills better when they're white.

These are bad translations of the original instructions,
the clay tablets disfigured in the noon heat.
The tires of the warlords' jeeps
did them no good either, in their vast numbers.