Good Luck

We are a stubborn people,

defiant to the core.

This isn't the first time we've

been here.

We massacred the Indians and

started a war, and fought and

died and bled to live free from

the burden of taxes and regulations.

But much has changed and

we now wear chains of our own making,

and lay yokes on necks across the sea.

Good luck on your conquest,

because we light the sky every year

to remind the universe that we'll burn

this fucker down before we lose it.

And by the time you land on our shores,

you will have landed on a man-made sun,

burning black with flame and heat and

the smoke will mushroom above us all

and none of us will ever taste tomorrow.

Then our ghosts will hunt your ghosts

and we will start a colony in your paradise,

we'll trade halos for acres until you fall

down a wormhole of anguish to a hell

only we can imagine. So, good luck.

We are waiting. We are human. We are free.