The tree’s have changed to walls of stone
Oh how mighty we have grown
How far we have fallen from our branch

Stars transformed to neon lights
Dawn progressed to this twilight
Caught up and buried in this non stop avalanche

Fur that once kept bodies warm
and helped to weather any storm
Grown thin and left us to the elements

Maybe its that lack of hair

What exactly will it take for eyes to open wide ?
To finally see the truth behind the lies with which we're plied
To light the fire that melts the chains with which we're pacified
To find the unity and love we're constantly denied

Lacking mental flexibility like a joint thats calcified
Our cerebral sanctuary's been invaded and occupied

Democracy’s just a word when profit margins are on the line
Arbenz learnt the lesson of the corporate’s grand design
Torrijos and Roldos fought, and then came crashing down to earth
The deposition of Mossadegh aborted freedoms birth
Lumumba in the Congo through to Aristide in Haiti
The Gulf War waged to discipline, not freedom for Kuwaiti’s

Fingers on a single hand
Simply separate grains of sand
Tumbling through the hour glass of the soul

The one has many faces
Giving choices to the races
Yet small minds will always fight to gain control

Killing for the one above
Subverting messages of love
Wearing crowns that should be worn on hearts

A spiritual bond not contract
To kneel and serve will subtract

Clinging to stationary realities
Attempting to set a fluid nature in stone
The conformity of rigid thinking
See’s us cut off, stranded and alone

Walls we build for security
Still make inmates of us all
The higher that we build them
Means the longer the shadow falls

Trying so hard to cross bridges
When the river is not yet in sight
Preconceived notions are shackles

A cover thats so fancy
Ornately gilded and bejewelled
Yet your pages mostly empty
And it seems your ink has pooled

Recycling well known images
In a cliched sea of brands
Picture perfect images
Airbrushed to meet demands

My covers worn and weathered
For its felt the season's touch
Dog eared from many readings
Made to bypass history's clutch

One hand made into many

A hearts graffiti tells it tale
Through its tags and quotes and murals
Some hearts bearing single names
And yet more bearing plurals
Messages made by hands that touched
By words that healed and scarred
From works of art that touch the soul
To jagged strokes that tore and marred
Some hearts are scoured of every mark
For fear of damage done
While others bear a million prints

Flags are fine for waving to the beat of the drums of war
Or to wrap the bodies cold from wounds that others words have tore
Or to use as measuring sticks, to draw that line within the sand
Fine to trick the masses with, that they are part of what you planned

My loyalty it lies with blood, the same through countless veins
Blood thats spilt so easily by those that hold the reigns