Assad the son, ruler of the failed state of Syria, a doctor of ophthalmology, ruthlessly stamps out dissent, all the while dreaming grand dreams of a greater Syria destroying the vile little state of Israel. You would think an eye doctor would know when his eyes were bigger than his army has a stomach for.

 

 

The eye man sits me in a chair

And says what do you see

I squint and squirm and then I stare

Then say I see an E

He smiles and says it looks like one

It really is a U

And while clear vision you have none

You’re good to kill a Jew

They sent me to the Golan Heights

And told me to be still

Israeli creep up in the nights

And try to take our hill

While in Damascus Assad sits

And dreams of conquest grand

Of screaming jets and tank led blitz

All going well as planned

At dawn we marched right down the hill

So proud to be at war

Israeli lines seemed oh so still

We’ve seen this all before

And then a flash, a roar, a blast

As bombs and bullets fly

I shout and run, the die is cast

Our missiles fill the sky

Then brighter than the brightest sun

The flash, then mushroom clouds

And when they settled it was done

They’d stilled the cheering crowds

I stumbled home to dead Assad

To rubbled burnt out towns

Damascus gone as well Riyadh

No more the Arab crowns

Teheran now gone and in its wake

The Turk sweeps up the prize

All gone, all gone for Assad’s sake

He should have stuck to eyes

 

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