Shotguns for the storytellers—
They kill the poets first—
Or they won’t wait too long—
The dictator lives to tell you what abides—
The poet dies to tell you what could be.

Soon come the truthseekers—
It’s your memory that must die first—
Flashbangs for the filmographers—
Pistols for the protesters—
The victor doesn’t write history, he edits.

One day this all will end—
Gallows for the gestapo—
And when that day comes—
And I promise that it will come—
We’ll hang the propagandists first.