Do what we say, not what we do!
No one’s listening, so let’s make bigger signs.
They use our taxes to build the prisons,
Their wages pay their bail,
No conscience disturbs the sleep of those in gold-woven linen.

Idle thumbs massage a brittle spine,
No change in the ominous foretelling in the sky.
Looming hesitation, fumbling explanations,
A number marks his rights and signs his life,
No wisdom bore the tree that they are written on.

Forests burn in a smoke of ignorance and blasphemy,
Chasing away the spiders, all that remains is decay and the flies.
Replant seeds between the embers; people are cattle with the ability to starve,
We see all that is wrong; the spirals in each twisting of their words,
Choruses of rebellion that could save us are a whisper left unheard.