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Poem

Time is a rye, in this ill world of lies
we lead our lives, blinded by the tides
unable to subside our undeniable flaws,
our undeniable selfishness.

The power of one...they say, they say
The power of all, to become one
That'll be the day, i say, i say.

Confusion is instinctive, so fret on it not.
Confusion is fed to us by the higher man
The self-righteous "better" man

This man is no man, but a coward and a thief.
He feeds us fear
The fear that keeps us from standing up and screaming,
"No! No more!"

Indigenous innocence has been stolen
from the rightful hand of the common man.
They will tell you, this you must:
Work, stress, pay
Pay, stress, work.
And you listen, because of the fear.

The fear is fed to us by the higher man,
the greed driven "successful" man.
I have but one question....
when, and how, did the village idiot find the power?
We have made a mistake, my friends.
No mistake is un-fixable though...

Give it time
Give it effort
Give it hope

The power will be given back in good time
To the righteous, peaceful, honest man.

This will be the day.

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