How could the world look otherwise
Upon a pending massacre
Except through thoughtless monsters’ eyes
And risk Rawanda, as it were.
Not quite a million Tutus died
While we and others looked aside.
A tough call, yet the Brits and French
Propelled us to a no-fly zone.
The Arab League? A bigger wrench
To turn on those they’ve called their own.
The U.N. dealt, then, its support.
Our derrière was safe, in short.
We’ll put no boots on Libyan ground.
Enough are in Afghanistan.
And though Gaddafi— nuts— seems bound
To fight until his final man,
Above the fray is literally
Our rightful place in history.
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