Perhaps I’m a bit more prudish Than I ever expected myself to be Shying away from their exhibitions Folding my soul back into propriety
Maybe I’m not as cool as you thought I’m more of a meandering old fellow Writing out lines of cautious fantasy Whereas reality reveals itself to be rather mellow
Civil disobedience Marching against their sullen grain Public executions of our citizens The ones whom systematically resemble our pain
Exhibitions of our worst character traits The trembling hands with transcribed blood Outside of the panoramic eye Yet all the same, caught in the seismic flood
A taciturn refusal to simply exist Check your feed for what revolutionaries say Bold proclamations & campaign slogans But eventually the media hype fades away
Some other crime or scandal to catch your eye Lights, cameras & we all return to normal instead Forgetting those who can’t whore for Zuckerberg But the people still live with a price on their head