There are to many writers and not enough words.
That’s why were all left repeating ourselves.
There is to much hatred and not enough love.
That’s why were constantly killing ourselves.
I’ve seen the lost widow cry and soldier regret.
Young children battered from years of neglect.
The man with the beard and the long flowing hair.
May shed tears in heaven but he wont answer prayers.
I hear screams from the concrete.
I smell blood in the air.
See the people uplifted as they protest and cheer.
Your democracy has ended.
This is anarchy here.
Until the anarchy’s resisted.
And democracy’s insisted.
Our repetition of the past is totally consistent.