All Hallows' Eve did come and leave,
November's finally here,
with children's smiles and candy piles
to add to harvest cheer.
Their parents beam but 'neath that gleam
there lurks a sense of dread,
for soon, they know, those laid below
rise for Day of the Dead.
In Mexico, families go
to visit loved ones passed,
to pay respect, pause and reflect
that no one's life will last,
while in the North, we sally forth
to polling place remote,
while marxists red co-opt our dead
to cancel out our Vote.
That Soldier Brave his own Life gave
for Liberty and Vow,
that Grandma missed, that lost Love kissed
might vote democrat now.
That Sister, Frère, that Mother, Père,
that Hero in your eyes,
Family, Friends: just means to ends
to hijack the Franchise.
For we who see this perfidy
no mask the marxists don
will full erase true fascist face:
no mask will slip back on.
The Franchise wrecked, the disrespect;
it's long past time we said,
“Shout to the stars, ‘These Dead are Ours!’,
take back Day of the Dead!”
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