I woke up this morning

And found a note

It said

I am leaving you

My country was leaving me

She had been seduced by the diseased traitors

I had a feeling that this was about to happen

That is why joined up the lies and became a member

Of the Special Forces

I am having breakfast as I write this

My smart uniform is hanging on the door

Please read my text

It is not too late

There is a place reserved for you

To watch these filthy traitors die

I have arranged a surprise

You will be handed my silver pistol

So that you might apply the coup de grâce

And then I will entertain you with my tales

Over candlelight and within soft music

Come back to me my injured country

You will heal I can promise you that

We will stroll along the once infected streets

And this will be just a foul memory

Which in fading time will soon be forgotten