Befuddlement

We caught them taking turns Splurging in an imaginary feast, where the figurines kissed Where the billboard dog stared and winked And robbers, dressed like priests, counted change Which they had stolen from the beggar down the street Of course we screamed at them in silence And our faces were permanently creased But the more we saw the less we could help We held out our hands trying to get a grip But the more we caught on, the less we held I don’t know about the others, but I felt imprisoned And the hissing whispers continued among the shadows The nastiness metamorphosed and solidified into a raving rock And I hid behind a sheet of glass and faced the stark facts With my usual choice of weapons; wit and words I said spare me the psychobabble, lay off the freedom speech We are sick of all the liberation lingo Put the slogan down. I refuse to pump the fist this week Needless to say, they went and told the chairman And then they came back for us