Strike

[Originally posted on Scream911 here.]

When sirens become the songs,
and fists become flags…
When anarchy is the anthem,
and disaster drives you mad…
When words become weapons,
and power becomes a sword…
When freedom breeds chaos,
and hatred breeds wars.

We
pick
up
the
right
(to) hurl stones;
curse and stamp our feet.

We find need
(it’s fine)
to throw our hands up
and finally admit defeat.

It’s alright to ride a rhythm that:
rip – needy – apart.
We nod;
but still keep silent.

(as)

The country is pierced to the heart.