The black dog is on my doorstep, he insists that he needs a drink.
Footprints are already impounded on all followed pavements.
The cake is poisoned with the stories of the greater mans word.
Eat it and your fate is within their wrist flicking reach.
End results and the finishings of situations
Are already determined beyond personal effect.
How many men are in your army? How many would have my back?

There is a man on a chair holding the club of master dimensions
I can see how he wants to play with my intents.
They force the doors shut blocking a sky that is taught to be blue
So we miss that it was turning green through foreign effects.

The black dog is on the doorstep, he insists that he needs some help
I stand on the zipline, looking over the city and the laid out maps.
If I was to say the sky was blue,
My hand you would shake and praise intellect.
If the same sky was deemed to be green,
Soldiers would be notified to create laws to control the insanity paradox.

The same man on the chair, dictates with a definitive howl,
I can see there is no room for small whistles or whispers.
The slammed door will not open despite my best efforts.
There is no way when there is one of me pushing one way and ten men pushing back.