There is a not so cold civil war going on, and only one side is fighting it. The left has been captured by the Jacobins, who want nothing more than to kill all who disagree so as to rule the promised utopia without hindrance. The problem for the Jacobins is that the guillotines do not care who wins.

Who raise the sword of civil war
Must conquer or must die
There is no way to just outscore
Shake hands and say nice try
The guillotines stand silent, still,
Awaiting the war’s end
Not counting up the daily kill
That sees a friend kill friend
When city streets run ankle deep
With blood once living red
The guillotines arise from sleep
And start to count the dead
For it all ends with whimpered cries
As mounds of leftists’ sons
Lay covered with bluebottle flies
At hands of those with guns