Late February rain pours out it's heart to me.
"Come dance," it screams; so loud and steadily.
I burn to let off steam, but I am locked inside this box.
Stuck with my 9 to 5 routine, of kicking jagged rocks.
Apocolyptic nightmares stir my soul, even while awake.
When the sky comes crashing downward fast,
what will I have done for the human race?
I begin to learn the meaning of complaicent.
And the taste is bitter with despare.
I hope one day the words expunged,
or breaks beyond repair.
America the Beautiful,
America the "Free",
What is this lie you've bottled up and sold?
Can you put a price tag on our dreams?
And is it worth its' weight in gold?
I guess I am just a day late,
or one too many dollars short.
So I'll keep climbing, up and up.
To pay off, all that you extort.
I'm sure it has been said before
and there is no doubt that some have won.
You hear the same bland story;
tried and true...
While staring down the barrell of a gun.
So wax on, wax off
I'm certain that it's growing old.
Cause no matter which you polish it,
Our hearts will never fold.