run our country, own our souls.
Rambling lavender abandonment merchants
march in time with sex and drugs,
sell us our vices with smiling balloon faces
and deep pockets.
WE are the inspired ones, WE are the ones
they try to placate. Afraid. Overwhelmed by our capacity for love,
our will for freedom,
our concern.
We make them seem petty and weak, these bumbling wolves,
these children of industry.
We reject their offers, we laugh as one at their excuses.
And still they build their shields.
And still we dance...the hypnotic rhythm of peace,
the alluring harmony bands. And they will shatter.
