Borders

Your borders must be made of divinely woven golden thread
Like a shroud atop the bodies of the symbolically slain sacrificial dead
‘Cause you guard them as if what lay within was the promised land
Like once inside the lines one would be delivered from need unto a generous extended hand

But when you live within the lines of such distinguishment
You see them smiling rich bliss on TV
And the want that sleeps on the cold pavement
You see the red carpets of the former pass right by the makeshift beds of the latter
But the camera angles, they never seem to show anything that might cause that happy illusion to shatter
But hasn’t this farce been unveiled? this land, the rich man’s soul for sale
Sold! in the currency of our wage slave existence
He may believe in a heaven, he believes he can get in at his checkbook’s insistence
His god is just a fat cat too
And bribery is a sacrament when profit is your religion

Their borders must seem like dollar signs, the vertical lines of which point inward
Or some inconsequential wimp subdued so easily by your boot-camp brainwashed brutes
‘Cause you’re just storming in
You’re just vanquishing any salvageable notion of self-rule
Who need sovereignty when you can just force feed a serum of complicity?
Sure tastes like strychnine, but the label reads, “democracy”
What do these words even mean, in the smirking mouth of the president?
If he assures you that poison is medicine, and wants to feed it to you
Do you believe him then too?
Come on. The war’s not for peace
It’s just the not-so-new doublespeak
And if they’ve broken your spirit, get it back in the streets
In celebratory mutiny.

We’ve got to revel in this resistance
It’s the only way to stay true to a freedom that was never red, white, or blue
Was never voted into existence, the constitution didn’t make it legitimate
Because it lives inside of you.