The Resistance (Poem)

Rooms, rooms, rooms
What’s all the talk of all these rooms

What typa room is gonna get me something better than
what I’ve come to know?

I got no time for all that chitter chatter
that wee wee wa wa woo

That same ole story
That broken hearted
That ‘hi my name is boo hoo hoo…’

What typa cult gets so obsessed about a room full of fools?
Spouting out the same ole message
like they can’t think of something new

I’m not that type
You ain’t tellin me nothing
I don’t need the help

And don’t waste your time trying to convince me that I’m not being honest with myself