Viva la Rebellion
She sees in the dark
like a bat out of hell
An echo in the park
She preys like a spell
The glow of the moon
is no match for her shadow
Her cold, bleeding heart sheds more light than the towns
That she stalks
And she mourns
And she summons to battle
I’m in rare form
My form is so rare
that no lie is too great to embrace my warfare
No fire can make dust of the bombs that I drop
And no thief in the night can take swift with my plot
I’m a renegade
I give swords to your slaves
Chop it up before dawn
then give bones to your graves
I’m a hurricane
I blow hard through the chill
I’ll do it when I wanna do it
I’ll do it when I’m done
I’ll do it when I’m sick and tired
I’ll do it when it’s done
I’ll do it when I’m all burnt out
And my legs are tired
And taking that first step feels like a marathon
without breakfast or a bottle of water
I’ll do it tomorrow
I’ll do it the next day
This is not a joke
And it’s not an illusion
This is not a coincidence
And it’s not collusion
This is the real deal baby
We’re gonna light the fire
Please, just let it be
My one heart’s desire
You are the lock
And I Am the key
I want to open that door
So please
Just let it be
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, hell is what we make it and happiness belongs to all who choose to own it. But what goes for reality? Is it something we choose, create, behold? Does it come in a box tied with a bow? If we reject it will it simply go away?
What happens when you shake a snow globe? A whirlwind disseminates around whatever masterpiece lies beneath. And as that masterpiece awaits patiently to be revealed, the shaker continues to shake and shake and shake, as though chaos is more amusing than art.
