Doing time without rhyme or reason;
surely is a mad season.
Feeling lost at what cost (a hollow one).
If I sound caustic it's cuz we lost it.
Fist in the air in the land of the free
(between you and me reigns a cut and dried society).
Much worse off than simple hypocrisy:
we've got outright lies and shameless blasphemy.
A corrupted system where the rich can kill for free
and the homeless and poor must pay to behave.
That's right, land of the free
(free to be doomed by the likes of We
ourselves who can pull the strings using dollar bills
and flashing rings with our professional smiles
all the while hiding the real nature of this beast—
that we're all killers at least.)
Trained to remain calm at the embalming.
That's how we became character actors.
So now I'll cut myself off from this train of thought,
because I know where it's leading.
And if you think that would make a great candidate—
well you're probably right—it's a great fuel, hate.
You think that's not the issue, well it isn't justice either.
In a divided union there can be no believer.
So remember in November, I dare you to step forth
and make your voice count.
Otherwise you grant power to the other side.
And that is all it takes to seal our fate—
wide awake or quite sedate.