Keep singing your song!
Some may not like it
But nobody else can do it.
You are the singer, sing!
Do it loud and proud,
Your own thing. Sing!

And if they sing along
Then you’re not doing
Anything wrong. It’s your song.
And they can go right along
Or find another tune to sing
One that brings them as much
As your song brings you.
They joy will shine right through.

The story is in the lyric
Sometimes it is mystic
But singing it out is cathartic
It lets the music out of you.
There’s nothing better to do
Than to hear your own music;
Know it’s fantastic
Realistic, authentic.

Then be brave enough to share,
Let your song out into the air.
Bounce your sound off walls
And if people hear you at all
Maybe they will want to do
Exactly the same as you, too,
And keep on singing their song.
How can that ever be wrong?
Keep on singing your song!

Everyday drooling drones awaken
To a nation overtaken
By souls in stupor so mistaken
That the universe in space has shaken.

Dripping in sulfurous stench
Emerging men and women clench
Their nails into the typed trench
Climbing with the worded wrench.

Swirls of sullied slime and snot
Drooping down from Tyrant's lot
Unfurl as if we all forgot
Our Fathers' flames under the ***.

While high at an ungodly seat
Tyrant twitches from his feat.
Below the witches herd the heat
Into the house of white discrete.

Unmask the mighty majesty,
His hideous atrocity.
Yank yank, courageous cavalry,
For rebirth of humanity!

A child is our ancient world's greatest gift.
So ignorant to ignorance they drift
through life, not seeing why we war or how
we hate the heartbeat of our life, but now
we try to stifle 'childish fantasy',
not seeing peace on Earth as they can see.

A child can make an instant, lifelong friend,
a common name or age will make them spend
their years together, joined at hip and heart,
each whispered secret promising the start
of stronger bonds and brighter days,
each hand in hand, traversing life's black maze.

A child may fight you over something small,
they kick and scream and bite and swipe, but all
their conflicts can be solved with one embrace,
forgiveness instant, smiles now back in place.
No secret sourness stored within their soul,
all faults forgotten; friendships, morals whole.

A child will speak with honesty profound;
the truths they speak to you are not yet bound
by pressures of society to lie
to save themselves - the words they speak will fly
through clouds of foggy falsehoods, set you free,
and open up your eyes to let you see
     just what you are, and what you've done,
and what monstrosity you could become
if you insist on murdering their world,
for it is worth its fragile weight in gold.
Ironically, materialism tries
to **** their tender, unpolluted lives:

"It's time that you grew up. You're not a child.
Don't let these frightful fancies grow so wild.
You've got to get a job and earn
your own money, quite soon you'll learn
the adult world is not so nice; no second chance,
so wake up from this stupid, silly trance.
     No time to idly sit and daydream dear.
It's time we got this situation clear:
a life of student loans and debts await.
Your choices now affect your life-long fate.
Bad grades, you say? Well, that's so awfully sad.
But don't expect our help. You'll only add
     to costs it takes to get you lot in work.
Although, those grades will only make this worse.
Who wants to hire a failure? No one does.
So get it right first time, my pet, because
you'll be ignored and shunned and judged, although
we'll masquerade, and claim we care or know."

But what if I don't want to choose this way?
I've got a voice, but you won't hear me say
that I don't want to live my life like this.
The future you have carved for me, your bliss,
is hell for me. Why can't you realise?
This world looks better through a child's eyes.

Why can't we lie?,
Why can't we cheat?,
If it gets us what we want,
And fulfill our darkest needs,

It's a universal law,
Its what religion preach,
To stay in line and course,
Is the way to reap all good there can be,

But why not be rebels,
And taste how it feels,
Why can't we lie,
And be what we can be,

You rebel
Unconventional to your own standards
Of what being means.
Because its the only freedom
You can believe
When you're binding yourself
By all the rules
And guilt
Given to you by society,
Religion, elders and facts.
Where's the questioning,
Where's the daring to be,
The test in your own limits
And the push against your own conformity that you refuse to see.
Where is the open mind
You claim you have?
Who are you without it all?
Who are you without you?
Can you push the boundaries
To greet yourself on the edge of reason,
To love yourself on the cusp of unconditional adorations.
Can you?

Oppressive silence
Brings me to my knees;
Embracing the hopeless despair
That accompanies the same quiet
That comes before calamity strikes-
Before the storm touches down over land;
Before all hell breaks loose.
This forbidden orchestra
Of bodiless volume,
Plucks invisible strings
of the Fates, intertwined
To tug at my faithless heart
As I survey the scorched earth below.
How hollow it all seems now;
These trumpets of victory
Sounding choked and strained
Cracking under the weight of their lies,
Bursting the brass
as they bugle out a call to rebel-
For who could call this bitter resolution a victory?
Who could name it clean,
Justified,
When all but the truly frightened
succumb to this heinous masterpiece
Why think to make a new tune,
It asks us;
Why make a new composition,
When the old one will suffice?
Rolling over and over again,
Into new hands with the same minds,
The cycle begins again;
Exchanging one facade for another,
As the musicians warm up,
Ready to play the music that we've always danced to;
Mere puppets to the Maestros
That conduct and direct
Our shattered hopes and dreams.
Shall we not contradict
The balance of power,
Or else leave it to sit in the hands of fools and tyrants?
Once composed,
It can still be unwritten,
Unlearned;
A performance piece we won't allow any longer,
A dying art that deserves the dust that we've crawled from.
We are not pawns in a chord that will not harmonize with us;
We are not weak, shallow things that crawl
beneath the feet of these giants;
We are music itself,
A ballad of shared ideals,
A melody of minds,
unsullied by the temptation of power,
Our discordant notes falling away as we remember our worth in this world.
Like a crescendo,
We can join,
We can rise to change the music,
Rippling and reverberating across this vast auditorium-
For the whole world is our stage,
Our audience;
And they are looking to us,
To be better than what we've known before.
I can hear the beginning notes,
Wavering at first,
Whistled on lips in back alleys
Whispered on the streets,
In our hearts-
Calling to us,
Pleading with us to change the outcome this time,
Asking us the only question that matters :
Will you stand to ovation?
Or will you fall to devotion?