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Smokey Bastard
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Screens
Iron curtain too heavy
Drawstring taut, still not closing
Shafts of light will find entry
Illuminate the room exposing
Plans in disarray
The faithful stray
While the room decays bathe in the sun
Our dissenting ways
Soaked up like rays, brand cynics void
They're on the make
This behemoth bends but never breaks
Print it on a T-shirt
Tune in, watch it crumble
Now we know we're free to speak
We negate our urgency
Voices fall not on deaf ears
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But on screens that keep on rolling over
Let the wolves come and get ya
Sell it back, nullify them
Carve a space for contention
Let illusions seed provide a
Platform for their cries
Or else they'll rise
Slave escape their binds and set the fires
Light the funeral pyres
Old tropes will expire and kings retire
Let them eat cake
Feed them up 'til they can't pull their weight
Oh what a state we'll find ourselves in
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