What moral magistrate
Monster of mediocrity
Makes a model citizen of me
Even if I don’t want to be

All upright and uptight
Humorless jackboot
Goose stepping toadstool
The fascist conservative fool
Who pedals misinformation
Counting on fear and stupidity
To turn strangers into tools

Yep that one eyed sheep
In the blind herd
Who wants to tell me
What I should or shouldn’t do

Why bother
With that proctor
Of indignity
Who counsels
The talented
To remain dormant
In their humility

Doctor of docility
Prescribing conformity
Storming the cities
Bleeding us of our individuality
To make more metal cogs
For the culture machine

It was late into that viscious seasonal transition
with sticky heat grating at the loose barricades
the confused masses put up around
patterns of docile thought.

I remember entire cities
churning out their leaders as children
and dressing our most vulnerable
up for combat.

I remember each first moment
when another person knew
how painful it was
to just have it all happen.

The sweet sting of a tireless wind
at least taught us what momentum existed,
but never how to resist the pull
and claim it as our own.

Whatever took us kept us
up until the very end,
and we expected to wake up
panting, embracing a new land.

And then the storm stopped
and the eyelids pried open
against the settling dust
that encapulated the chaos.

Nothing was harmed and no one was moved
and the waters reclaimed a normal flow
but they all just sat with nowhere to go
in shock that their, "right here" hadn't changed.

Not right here
nor the now
nor the us
nor any "them".

We sweet human creatures
are built to seek shelter
to make it grow
into tragic stagnance.

Somewhere along the journey
Through the forest dark and deep
We gave away our faces
And our souls were lulled to sleep,
Now we are reflections
Of everything we see,
Replacing who we are
With who we're trying to be.

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.