More Dylan

11

A question in your nerves is lit, yet you know there is no answer fit
to satisfy, ensure you not to quit, to keep it in your mind and not forget
that it is not he or she or them or it that you belong to.

For them that must obey authority that they do not respect in any degree,
who despise their jobs, their destinies, speak jealously of them that are free,
cultivate their flowers to be nothing more than something they invest in.

While some on principles baptized to strict party platforms ties,
social clubs in drag disguise, outsiders they can freely criticize,
tell nothing except who to idolize and then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire gargles in the rat race choir,
bent out of shape from society's pliers, cares not to come up any higher
but rather get you down in the hole that he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault on anyone that lives in a vault.
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

While them that defend what they cannot see with a killer's pride, security,
it blows the minds most bitterly for them that think death's honesty
won't fall upon them naturally, life sometimes must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyourds, false gods, I scuff
at pettiness which plays so rough, walk upside-down inside handcuffs,
kick my legs to crash it off, say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?