Shut up, ridiculed,
recycled,
we're pools in the mud.
Nothing good ever comes from
the bullets of guns and the ballots or
ballads of racketeers,
three cheers for the man who uncovered
the plan to cover up this deaf man's ears.
I try to imagine a green screen where the scene playing out is not one seen before, but I fail.
The lies are rewound and we're back ******* the ground while the fat and the rich fly high but when the earthquake comes it's back to the bullets of guns and nothing good ever comes from that.
So it's shut up or put up and come out fighting
the war isn't over yet,
one battle is lost,
more than a skirmish to come,
if you get up and run now you're done now and somehow the bullets fly back into the gun.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
Shut up, ridiculed,
recycled,
we're pools in the mud.
Nothing good ever comes from
the bullets of guns and the ballots or
ballads of racketeers,
three cheers for the man who uncovered
the plan to cover up this deaf man's ears.
I try to imagine a green screen where the scene playing out is not one seen before, but I fail.
The lies are rewound and we're back ******* the ground while the fat and the rich fly high but when the earthquake comes it's back to the bullets of guns and nothing good ever comes from that.
So it's shut up or put up and come out fighting
the war isn't over yet,
one battle is lost,
more than a skirmish to come,
if you get up and run now you're done now and somehow the bullets fly back into the gun.
Request permission to use this poem