Johnny's on the line
He's getting no sleep today
They don't like you for your personhood
They call themselves the Robinhoods
The Forest rangers
The track defenders
But the fruit gets squished in their grips
As insult off their red lips trips
They'll use you on the Strawberry Line
They'll take your body and soul
They'll tie you down and wait
Until across you bicycles roll
Don't go and sell your body
For the price of their coal
The respect you'll earn, will not burn
Hot enough fires in your soul
They talk in their drivel
Of self-aggrandizing fame
To keep alight their own torch bright
While the light house is aflame
Everyone wants a beacon
A dream in which to believe
Come and be a follower
You might give but you won't receive
Not unless it is their scorn
From the early morn until the Eve
For their crown of thorns
Is always worn
whether borrowed or whether thieved
No comments:
Post a Comment