An industrial fan drags my hair across my face
As I lean a little down to the slightly-too-short microphone
And with an audience of a few hundred
I begin my protest
Disguised as entertainment
They don't realise what I'm saying,
Not yet,
Not while they're learning the tune,
And my message is still building,
But now -
Now they hear the words
As my backing cuts off
And I am left naked in my beliefs
And I sing, with power
With certainty and hope
For a future I can't change yet
So I can make someone's now
Better.