Dying to Live.
By Randall Stephen Hall©
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I’m dying from living.
I’m waiting to live.
I work in this box now.
My heart is a sieve.
I catch what you say now.
Process it and cough.
You make me just spit now.
For it just ain’t enough.
You expect me to take
All you’ve dumped on my plate?
Your salty beef burgers
And your rough tongue of hate.
Exporting your freedoms
With drones at my door.
Those rags that you hang out
Don’t believe them no more.
Chorus.
We are moving along
As we stand in our queues.
Like sheep that go baa.
Like cows that go moo.
For standing in line
You don’t have to think.
I thirst with no choice
For it’s you that we drink.
I’m taking a break
From all of your crap.
Step out for some air now.
Out the door at the back.
The heat from your words
Would warm me in winter.
You chop up our wood
And live off the splinters.
And when I get back
I’m bringing a crowd.
For we want to speak up
And say things out loud.
We’ll rattle your cage.
Bananas are yellow.
It’s time for a change now
Cause you’re such a fine fellow.
Division, divides, divisively set.
You keep us apart
And feed us like pets.
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