Murdery Rhyme: How many more before US politicians grow a spine

A murder-y rhyme, as opposed to a nursery rhyme….

The bullets they spat,
And who do you think they be?
The butcher, the killer,
The coffin-box filler,
All on a killing spree.

The bullets non-stop,
Empty shells all falling down.
The AR, the AK
All legal they say,
And fire off 200 rounds.

The racists did sing,
And who do you think they be?
The criminal who rules,
The gun-toting fools,
All counting bodies with glee.

I’m glad to hear Elizabeth Warren speak out.  Now let’s see if anything comes of it.