upsurges of down-throws
through thick brick walls.
And the know-it-alls who reach for your throat
teach the audience all they need to know --
Had we kept our inside voices
and not sung 'til our words died,
we'd have followed conduct
and been given a reason to cry.
But the knots, now tied, keep
constricted our God-given right to
scream our dreams and
fight for our life.
"I'm on your side."
Heard five hundred times and
that twelve-letter phrase
is a dozen per dime.
The papers, intangible, are,
by our keepers, signed.
Now all that we have
is treason defined.
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