Revolution Booze Brigade

It's too hot to drink
He says
Opening another bottle
Refusing to think
He stays
En route to topple
The halls of decadent hordes
The thrones of nightmare lords
The offices of lynch mobs
Properly abhorred
 
He cries unto Heaven
For the powers of Hell
Draining a seven and seven
Figures himself'll do just as well
 
Shot of tequila, Molotov, shotgun
It's all the same fun
 
Burning bridges
Causing stitches
Emptying fridges
Grave ditches
Dug in the early evening
Never believing
One is mine
He pours a jug wine
Down to the last drop
Preaching, "I'm never gonna stop!
Fighting for the cause
But not for applause."
 
Though if perchance
Some might care to finance
The next round
(his cash flow
tends to guns and ammo)
The revolutionary will sound
Infinite praises,
Especially once he raises
This world from the blazes
 
"We're burning children,"
He whispers solemnly,
"Only a villain
Can take that commonly
Calmly sober as if everyday
The ashes like snow
Fly away."