Yeah, Go pt. III

In red wine and rips from the bong

The memoirs I wrote you turned into a song

But my mind was somewhere else all along

So I’m playing it out just to play along

No longer fighting the right lines or the wrong

But the truth; masked by a division

Keeping us far out of the loop

And yet, somehow, we are

The loop itself–

Rising, creeping upward

Faster. Flowing, inward

Sacred masters all charted

Masked Marxist disasters

And you’re getting plastered

Where’s the hope for us now?

It all cycled through to more carelessly drop down,

Reduced to a name, a number or a code

Preset with previous correlations shown

Insightfully overthrown 

And you still don’t even know

“Yeah, go.”


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