nmyworld

Seated in chairs made of gold
Upon monuments their parents built
Ears burn at discontent’s sound
From those who dare demand better
When, from the streets the poor demand more
In tallest towers they can only look down
Tell the weak everything is alright
Tell them it’s a worthless fight to fight
And to carry on into the night
But we’ve seen this all before
They’ll be, one day, at the door
To throw them from the thousandth floor
And they’ll be content no more
Contentment, they thought,
Was enough for the poor

Mystified morning
Of shock and terror, fire and death
We hang down our heads
Blame each other and tear down freedom
Where once great men stood
Their children reduced themselves to crawl
While they walk away
The dangerous who wrought their ruin

Confiscating Mercedes
Patting down old ladies
Lying for the greater good
So their agenda is understood
All because of one day
The terrorists got their way

Gloat that their man triumphed
Peace of mind louder than reality
Who will they champion next
When there is only one left?
In a world with but one master
Everyone is his servant

Top shelf novels and popular fiction
Glossy hardcover to sell to the masses
Bottom shelf bombshells outlive their memories
Until some new gen tycoon refabricates
Reintroducing ancient effigies to cash
And once again, for them the masses dash

Just like their culture
A prettied up exterior and blank interior
To be part of the queue

She takes three breaths
Slow and measured full
Tries to contain the anger
But the demons keep the pull

This pork on the table
Is evil’s very label
It makes it so she’s able
To live life unstable

Offers to dispose of it
But won’t offer to replace
Her intentions are uncaring
Because she’s a sad disgrace

These gestures on the set
Won’t let her mind to rest
Reminds her of regret
Her life’s sad silhouette

Wants to be forever rid
Offers to legislate
Remove parts of our culture
All she does is frustrate

All she can do is take
She will never create
The colors makes her ache
Burning America in her wake

The children are held too long as to not get hurt
So that every generation is more protected and sheltered than the last
The ones that slip by and awaken from mind control
Break free to rethink the limits of mankind, free from the ignorance of their peers
The ones afraid to go too far, afraid to be great
Live forever in animalistic darkness, procreating with a fierce vengeance
To get back at those they shun and try to forget

First, I need to point out that I find it illogical and incorrect to assume that if revenues do not match last years’, then you have “lost” money. I find it further incorrect to blame these “lost revenues” on something that has changed the world only for good, the Internet. It seems more the MPAA’s lack of will, ability, or foresight to adapt to new technology rather than these so-called pirates raining on their cash parade (complete with floats made entirely of Mike Meyer’s dignity and Frank Darabont’s Indiana Jones script). Read on…

On the heels of the flag eaters
While their breaths are still fresh
The quipping, sarcastic, thinking few
With laughs still in tow
Until no one is left to silence
No one is left to save