Turn on your television sets, America Same time, same routine Spoon-fed the crisis of the weak Talkshow dogma, the audience of Perfection, free of reflection Where do they point the finger next Never toward the mirror Rediscovered fossils fist fuck the public With a classy facade, it's base anchored In solid Fear Mothers, ooh glorious creators Wipe your mouths And set down that tableture Look at your cardboard cutout Before the razor burns down Shh..Do you hear what I hear? The last grain of sand has slipped No need to cry for help The world just lost ya Maybe that's the way it should be Us and them With the occasional cross of the line Due to creative differences. New studies show that Living will kill you Self-protection via Congressional vote Self-fulfilling, rape the willing You don't know what I see You don't know what we feel See a lot of people with tombstones in their eyes Nature's way of segregation The immortal dies Save the last bullet for yourself Self-protection via freedom to vote
Reason for writing:
Reason is simple reflection...
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Marc Theiler.