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if I stayed up all night
erasing lines and rewriting
I still couldn't get it right
if I pulled a chair up to my Mac
and started to type
nothing much left to
complain and gripe
bored with everything
nothing seems to be my type
checking the rhythmical throbbing
of my pulse to see if I'm alright
something happened overnight
woke up feeling like a prototype
you know that feeling when something’s not right
you can see what's coming down the pipe
knowing soon there will be no rights
for those who refuse to see the light
those who believe media hype
those who are too duped to prepare to fight
those who cannot decipher what the poets write
those who do not succeed in understanding
those who think that freedom fighters are
just too demanding
those who have given up and figure
what’s the use in planning
every riddle, fairytale and rhyme
is the sign of a time to come
count the beats of the drum roll
stand back and watch it all unfold
