July 2, 2010

re: txt poem

You have someplace to get to What
do you do when you reach said des
tination Do you nap Or walk the ground
s Do you map the next voyages

Not only was the revolution televised
It was watered down with designer
goods Fit into plasti-fascist haute-
couture Washed out by designer drugs

You can’t predict if madness will
set in Or when It doesn’t work that way
We ought to’ve figured such
By now It isn’t a matter of will

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::say something::

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