The loudest camera time, and with a little help
you were pronounced fair and square
Little did your lovers suspect that
it would all be down hill from there
So you think you’ve got it figured out
by watching every move
Well then, can you handle little sister
staring back at you?
Words mean nothing,
but actions tell the truth
We’re on to you
One by one into the spotlight
the underbelly will be revealed
You’ve got the worlds attention
Flip a coin for your next human shield
So you think you’ve got it figured out
by watching every move
Well then, can you handle little sister
staring back at you?
Words mean nothing,
but actions tell the truth
We’re on to you
If you find the perfect hiding place,
it’s in our silence where we will lose our names
Go ahead, keep sweeping,
but the rug has been removed
So you think you’ve got it covered up
then watch our every move
Well then, can you handle little sister
staring back at you?
We see it coming down while your above
the wasteland in your view
Your words mean nothing
Your actions tell the truth
We’re on to you
These are lyrics to a song I recently wrote. Our political climate is Arizona hot. I’ve never felt so compelled to pay such close attention to the actions of those in power. Nor have I ever felt my country fading away, until now. The worse part is we’ve turned on the wrong people – each other.
Having said that, perhaps we need a power explosion to blowup in our faces. As a nation, I don’t think we know who we are anymore; we have dissociative identity disorder. I want to feel whole. My neighbor isn’t just next door, it’s everyone. But we don’t trust each other, and force someone else to solve our problems.
Are we peeling an onion, or just de-petal-ing a rose? Are we disarming a bomb, or filling a powder keg? Are we cultivating a fertile landscape, or accelerating a wasteland? I guess for now we support what we believe in until someone in charge yells, “Shut her down!” Or, we continue to struggle just like multiple personalities fighting for their turn at the helm.
Illustration by Anton Semenov
