Friday, July 31, 2009

We have revolution in our blood

Born stained with slavery

Or a so-called order of things

Or a so-called class

And we live quietly or violently

But most of it

Within our class limits

Dreamers die alone

And dreams burst unseen

We lie to each other

Talking about change

Because we expect someone else

To sacrifice for the greater good

While we at night

We get drunk to forget.

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