Passion torn without remorse,
screamed in rage, but now I’m hoarse,
frustration hidden, turned to pain,
posters flimsy, fiercely waved.
Causes spend our youthful lust
for faithless men you dare not trust,
watched my leaders backroom trade,
saw our numbers flux and fade.
Saw two children, both my own,
saw my rage as time on loan,
in backyards saw transcendent me
love suburban-born reality.