Time

Where the hell does the time go 

I can’t believe I’ll be thirty-five

I can’t believe that I’m still alive 

though there’s still some days 

I don’t want to be

hearing people still shouting 

FREEDOM ISN’T FREE

while we’re drowning 

nearly half of humanity 

with our compliant behavior 

and our apathy

shedding alligator tears 

while we drink our tea

 

Where the hell does the time go,

eighteen years later 

and the rivers flow 

to a sea of red,

we sing the blues 

but we ignore the dead 

if they’re not white,

we turn off the light and pretend 

that we’re not the ones who send 

death knocking down their door, 

using our bread to kill their poor.

 

Where the hell does the time go, 

people say only god knows 

but maybe god is just an idea 

that they turned into ideology 

to drive a wedge between you and me

as they shackled the world with fear

that we numb with religion and beer 

and we still hum along 

as they beat the drums 

it’s the same fucking script 

as a new war comes

sure to drag on just like the rest 

Wall Street loves these kind

of wars the best

so sign up your sons 

and your daughters

if they make it home

they’ll get some bread 

for being cannon fodder.

 

Where the hell does the time go, 

I asked god once

she said she doesn’t know 

it just ends too quickly

like your favorite show 

that you used to watch 

when you were a kid

before they lost pandora’s lid.

 

Where the hell does the time go, 

and why did we let our dimes grow 

into a monstrous death machine?

The war can die now that its eighteen

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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