Until Someone Comes and Fishes'em Out

I’m dead and awake—or alive and asleep;
I need current events to keep me on my feet.
The downfall of an organized society or corruption—
it’s our blacked out definition that’s our obstruction.
Read the history books and you’ll know what I mean;
the favoritism is bulk but the facts are lean.
The world’s on a tilted axis, and I know I can’t change it—
this is what wakes me at night,
not the nightmares on Elm Street,
nor the anticipation of Judgment,
not the hallway light.
I’m revolted by the predominance of conformity,
the disguising of absurdity,
the cut of controversy.
Where’s the turbulence,
the difference,
amid the insane?
I’m looking out at the purely inane—
the very essence of the phobia of change.
I’m so at a loss for words right now
I can hardly speak;
I’m so taken about by our society’s
discriminatory leak.
I want to cut ghost holes into the wool
that’s been pulled over your eyes.
I want to open your eyes.
And when you see,
I want to give you a prize
for recognizing the individual’s demise
under the conformist and capitalist’s rise—
shooing us off like flies,
shining through their own disguise,
while we shake hands with and smile
at our fellow passer-bys.
What’s the American Dream? I’m not so sure anymore.
There are too many wolves in sheep’s clothing.
Revolutionary’s try to break through the mold
but there’s too much of what wasn’t said
residing in the deeper folds—
lying dormant until someone comes and fishes’em out.
we’re all digging ourselves a deeper hole
while our bodies and humanity roam…free
while our souls lie in the holes,
until someone comes and fishes’em out.