Blades forever resting on the ground
Speakers who can no longer make a sound
Who will take on the mantle of war?
Who will threaten to dare ask for more?
There are two types of war
One drenched in crimson blood, each drop clutching to the source until it breaks away
But there is another.
A war of words, a battle between hearts and minds that shall never cease
As long as there cannot be peace
Sending in our votes like paper planes never to reach their destination
Pawns in a game of money\'s creation
Yes, they\'ve done the unthinkable.
In a game only they can win, while we\'re left with the bad hand
Stripped away our voices, our very identities, in this \'free\' land
Free for who?
Certainly not the bottom 99%, who\'s taxes remain the same
All as the elite decide that they\'re allowed to break the game
Who are the elite?
Those who upon gaining wealth, found not satisfaction but endless corrupted ambition
A parasite of corruption leaking into the swamp of politics
\'Lobbyists\' making \'suggestions\', speaking in green
Constantly watching the profit margins, wondering how much more they can glean
Yet, they are not the only perpetrators of this crime
With a haughty arrogance, we brag about our ideals of freedoms
Fantasizing about our just and holy wars
Then why is it that as soon as those freedoms are taken away, we don\'t feel a need to ask for more?
It is time to pick up our fallen swords
And find our hiding words
For if they are all we have to combat greed.
Certainly, that is all we\'ll need
Kindle those flickering, coughing embers into a fearsome flame
March forward under our battle cries until they remember our name
Refuse to remain apathetic and ignorant, refuse to let things be the same
Remember that no matter how they change the rules
This will always be our game