yeah, you better grab hold of me:
i'm like a grassfire, driven by the wind
running and licking up the edges
of your house; callin out your youngest
daughter, to dance in the moonlight,
whispering quiet reassurances that every
(unthinkable) joy is her right
to expect;
yes, i am one dangerous
unit, unresigned to letting
life slip by unnoticed
chain me to the bedpost--
i have studied revolution, by kerosene light
get me, right now--
before my virus spreads
oh, you better quarantine my thoughts:
although this epidemic is already roaring
through the fabric of modern man's
mind, eroding the very terra
firma of your landscape (of hope-
lessness), washing away the muck
of empty time,and life's failure
to inspire;
but
i am (truly) the very least
of your problems, just one
of many, many minds unwilling to stand, and observe
your defilement of life, so
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