Another smart bomb fell upon a school
Where unarmed girls and women learned and grew,
And I felt the lesser half of a mule,
Despite the faces that I never knew.
It could be the coordinates were wrong,
It could be that the maps were never right.
I hope that when those girls sang their swan song
They spoke highly of American might.
As we turned over and began to snore
We made their skyline fifty shades of grey.
It wasn’t night upon that distant shore,
But by God, it did not look much like day.
And the next bomber was already there
Before the dust had settled from the air.
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