No power. Does it matter? Fuck, yeah, the
trickle down gloom permeates your existence, their insistence that power is
theirs alone dooms your water boy, say girl, stature, capturing the best years
of your life, strife with condescension lapping up their pasteurized rapture,
their ascension to capture the brass ring. Well, it’s time for inclusion, break into the boardroom. No keys? Fuck the
“please” the “Yes sir”
Oh the pratter, the power broker chatter that
dispenses what does and what doesn’t matter, shallow souls
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