There are times when the picture is clear. Frozen in place, standing we can see, all the dirt, the falling dust that covers the lies. We were busy, occupied, we couldn’t bother to fight. There were too many shiny things to reach. Doesn’t matter the lost, the poor, the oppressed, ’till we escape that fate, we’re secure. So, the power was there to keep into greasy hands, to share between themselves. We were busy worrying ’till the grave. Paying overwhelming taxes, caressing empty things, distancing from feelings. We lost the power to criticize and act. Now, we face the consequence. The world in greedy hands, our safety at stake. How does it feel? Those shiny things, so empty and useless. We’re under a pacific tyranny. How does it sound? Take this time to understand.