An old fallacy

Roses are blood, Violets are bruise, world that we live in, is sick and abused. Hate, terror, pain. An old violent creed, Sham, misdirection. It's all about greed. Money is everything, power is all, the ability to command, the right to stand tall. Coloured heads, Caps of red, of blue, minions in the struggle, green, turquoise too. Mindless, empty. Their orders obeyed. Destruction, agony. Life's essence, affrayed. Marching in tune, the hard stamp of feet an onslaught of right, the wrong has been beat. Right has been wronged, wrong has been righted each side believes, the other is blighted. Correct, vindicated. Power does not care. Incorrect, assimilated. Power does not share. No army thinks, that itself is to blame Opponent is evil, dark, twisted, no shame Occupation starts, streets patrolled nightly A city of uniforms, mightily unsightly Rules, oppression. The creed in their element. Despair, obsession. Life put down and spent. Money rolls in, while the masses are crying. The old club rejoice, for their power is flying