You said, I want to go where the riots are,
Where my affliction has no name.
That's what you call it, your pacifism:
Your affliction, your disease.
Like a flaw that keeps you from fighting.
But I've seen you argue with
Unclenched fists and
Disappointed eyes and I know
It's not that you can't fight,
It's that you won
A long time ago.

'Q