Revolution cycles around the circles of oppression.
The comfortable sit and watch the discomfort of the discontent
Not realizing they are also among the disenfranchised,
Shackled by the fear of losing their fragile hold
Of the glass houses they have built to protect themselves from
The reality that lives a stone’s throw away
In poverty dwelling in the hovels of realization
That their lives do not factor into the big picture
Drawn by the minority controlling the economy
Automatons of the corporate machinery
Who have traded their humanity for spending power.
Power pulls the strings controlling a marionette society
Who puts shoulders to steel to push a stalled economy
Over the edge of a calamity because they refuse to see
That despair cannot be healed by retail therapy
And prescriptions for drugs are not permissions for life
Or lives lost in cries muffled in smoke
Billowing from burning oil fields
And the desperate gaze of starving babies too weak to cry
Haunts the conditioned mind’s wandering eye
And says this picture is wrong
This mirror is broken
But if they are not us then it’s we against them
And what’s ours is not theirs but what’s theirs could be ours
Because we must maintain this masquerade
At all costs.
But what is the cost of a life?
What is the cost of our lifestyle?
What is the price of gas as we fill up our tanks
With the blood of the thousands
The liquid gold that flows through the veins of an economy
Built on the backs of slaves
Carried on the backs of the struggling working class
Whose weary feet massage the backs of the elite 1 per cent
One life lost, per cent pumped into the tank of oppression
One humanity diminished by each bullet fired
One world shattered by illusions of separation
We come full circle, all… over… again,
Revolution upon revolution without evolution
Of thinking as we fail to realize that
One humanity, one human race
Is destroying itself over wealth that does not exist
Save for in the minds of those we seek to destroy.
The world turns in revolution
As our axis of evil shifts to the next target
To the next ideal that needs to be replaced
With something more convenient
As we fight conformity in the name of the same
As we defend nationality against, women and children
Fathers and sons, brothers and sisters playing with guns
Running around playing capture the flag
To use them as decorative shrouds
On the coffins in which we bury our guilt
Six feet under the propaganda of hate
Targeting that which does not comply with the current agenda
The land the coltan the diamonds the oil
The ideals we sell for access to the soil
So our one earth revolves and the soil soaks with blood
While the revolution continues to cycle
Through history’s familiar rhythms of injustice.
Ahhh - this was my favourite from your 'Kick Ass' feature. I can see why this one is made to be spoken out loud :)
ReplyDeleteYea it was the first real spoken word piece I ever wrote. I wrote it right after leaving you last summer actually. That visit had a great influence on me ;-)
ReplyDelete