the evidence is clear though the facts remain foggy
you are trapped in a lie
and so am I
like an old Victorian dance
we prance on the political stage
no place for color
no place for brains
we love the design
and are locked on the stage
where are our brains
are we slaves
promoters of oppression
souls stuck in recession
voiceless because you have never spoken
drowning in your own reflection
it is nothing you will be
without
we
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