3-minute revolution

they are just ink on paper metamorphosed into emotions and rebellion. this voice shall be heard. "the silent masses" no more. the fingers strumon the heart-strings of the confused, direction anorexic generation. yearning for a cause, their collective ears listen for ascendency. what they hear is empty. froce-fed lies, facades, how-to's, and should-be's. their story is the fable; a play written, directed, and cast by the satiated and the corrupt. sing the revolution. give three minutes of freedom unhinge the minds clasp on to reality. sing the revolution. scrub the toxic waste from the minds. who is the leader? who presses the little red button? who decides their fate? sing the revolution. educate the minds to the suffering the war the slavery the war the famine the war the politics the war. the revolution. sing the revolution. there is more. revolution = thought revolution = creation revolution = change they've memorized their lines. they've memorized their places. they must dance to the orchestra. the audience is waiting. what will they do? sing the revolution. touch one, open all. sing the revolution. the words fuel thought. it can change. it must change. sing the revolution... if only for 3 minutes."our father, who art in a penthouse, sits in his 37th floor suite... he allows me to solicit grafiti... when he comes down, he better put more than money in our cups, or else we are coming up." ~ the wise and beautiful ani difranco Written December 20th, 2001 © on Dec 20 2001 12:43 PM PST   0 • 12