You gotta have a dictionary
To understand the lies that they
Sprout like seeds out of
The cracks in the concrete
Leading, with it’s yellow-striped tar-and-feather reality
To that one place that we cant reach
That the crisp-collar world cant seem to keep.
Or, you see
That thing called cliché.
Chances are that you’ll drive the road that never ends
Because the light seems pretty damn green,
The grass is greener too.
Brace yourself for this long-winded lecture
About the short-winded nature
Of all that we do
When all they really want
Is to spot that silver lining
Decorating my shoes.
Prance, you silly party boy
And prate about the idiocy
Of electing the Man to power.
Defenestrate that computer screen,
With it’s non-reflecting lies
And those piles of bloody corpses.
A crisp dollar bill can buy freedom,
But not the ability
To appreciate the rules.