Candle wax, renegades,
cigarettes, and lemonade.
Maybe it’s time to engage
in our ******* crusade?

Ink wells, stormy skies,
footsteps, little lies.
Revolution in her eyes,
our boats in harbor never tied.

Metal clangs, laying down,
boots soaked, name is drowned.
No longer pushed around
but too dead to make a sound