The Anarchist’s Soul is never quiet.
It delves in to the foreboding why?
The wondrous slide of knowledge,
Down the slope of hills built so high.
You may try and hold us back
Suppressing us to hold us down,
To bring us into cells of the void,
White space with no life or noise.
Blinders on full blast in society,
Today’s life a daze unseen,
No longer worrying about reality,
Solely focusing on trivial pursuits.
Looking for reason in all the wrong places,
Fighting the government against its own treason,
For treason verse treason is the name of the season,
Lies, Truths, Fears, and Confidences being poured in our
ears.
We will not listen such a constant stream of shit,
We will stand in line waiting to break out,
For when we surge up as the mighty oppressed,
It will be such a blackout you will never forget.
Days will be long and the nights will be cold,
There will be one good thing though,
The relief of the weary, downtrodden, beaten, and old
The joy in knowing out none of us can ever again be sold.
The greedy will die out,
The just will remain in their stead.
The hate of the anarchist soul will turn,
And become the
beauty needed to sleep easy in our beds.
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