Friday, July 27, 2007

The Triumph of the Overdog

Sometimes it seems, this will last forever.
And what if it does?
With murderers posing as angels of mercy,
Superstitions making the unholy holy,
Death on a Tuesday, forgotten on Wednesday,
False friendships forged behind curtained handshakes,
Puppet regimes where black blood flows,
Where the cost of our lives is paid for by others,
And the worth of those lives is determined by bill-collectors,
When no one has a funeral as Hector,
But the bodies are piled where the earth will be charred,
Comparisons and metaphors are used on the good-guys,
And no one knows who the good-guys are,

The song of the few is sung by the many,
And flags are draped on coffins in rows,
Arlington raises her head in sad wonder,
And hell is hot but there is no fire,
Where fire isn’t started, but is said to be burning,
Where twelve honest men would stand on the gallows,
And the jury is composed of one man twelve times,
And liars lie under oath but no guillotine threatens,
And oaths are only for the people who follow them,
But those that don’t will be making the rules,
And being embattled means you don’t look into eyes,

Where the apple isn’t eaten they just chop down the tree,
And the tree is made into paper to quell the blind masses,
And the makers of the paper are elevated to gods,
As religion rots from the inside out,
‘Til even Jesus himself constructs half-truths,
If it’s true that his mouthpieces are who they claim to be,
Then it’s obvious he values a sword over the pen,
So his book must not have even been inspired by him,
But rather a do-gooder who was stoned twice,
And the second time they managed to finish the job,
So the job is now what drives those bloodthirsty,
Those so evil it screams of the devil,
Or at least a demon who wires their speeches,
There’s no angel on anyone’s shoulder but rather a rocket,
And bombs on the brain and fear in those bombs,
Those who aren’t afraid are viewed na├»ve,
Those who are afraid, they died before they could,
And would go die again if they only had courage,
The sign on the border read: “No Courage Allowed Here”,

So many people eager to be technological, so devoid of soul,
Technology is all relative, relative to losing ourselves somewhere,
We’re are all free-agents, under our own employ,
And the target is you, them, us, we are our own mark,
The only way to stop the killer bees is to kill the whole hive,
And a nest burns so quickly, so let them eat cake,

Your new opium makes you think you’re a part of something,
And that something lines the killer bees’ pockets,
No one was ever meant to be famous,
We should be content to be lost to the sands of time,
Mostly because we all will be lost to time,
And if your name is spoke in a thousand years,
No one will no how it should sound because language will kill it,
No one has any concept of loyalty anymore,
So don’t worry, you won’t be famous for long,

A man’s mind was poisoned against himself,
He was the decider for a short time,
He decided that freedom fighters make for good bogeymen,
Especially when people have forgotten what freedom is,
When it’s okay to bequeath your liberty to sustain your freedom,
I’ve just said things that would get me stoned four years ago,
But now the stoning won’t be in the public square,
Don’t disguise yourself and hide behind your newspaper,
Poison still gets people killed even if the voices don’t say it,
Those voices, unseen, the source a mystery,
But those voices carry so much weight,
You better be brave, everyone turns on everyone in the end,
“And even if I won’t give you up, I’ll give them up”.

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