Featherless Biped
Your Honor, I ask no mercy and I plead for no immunity
I realize that finally the right must prevail
I never so clearly comprehended as now the great struggle between the powers of greed and exploitation on the one hand and upon the other the rising hosts of industrial freedom and social justice
I told Alexander to stand out of my sun
Just a little typhoid can cancel out what you've done
Canned laughter, no funny shit, listen up
I get everything I need from rummaging in the dump
Man is not a featherless biped
I sidestep your priorly made assumptions, get a new mindset
Playdough, Plato said an empty vessel makes the loudest sound
Now let it digest
The unexamined life is not worth living
Curse lifted, I saw God in the burning thicket
Stepped outside and I heard the crickets
I don't mean to get persnickety but it's a difference
We're just some plucked chickens living on a factory farm
It seems that ninety-five percent of us are glad to be starved
Licking the boot of capital, the fallacy's apparent
Fuck formalities, in casualties we tally the merits
Let the light shine through your prism
Get a new look, find what's entirely missing
Do a minor incision
Peel back the layers and decry the derision
At a Mayan commune, eating guinep with the children
Kaczynski shack because I'm sick of the shilling
Blocking all proponents of imperialism
I had a serious vision and now I'm hearing it different
I killed the cat like curiosity
Nine times in fact, that's mighty ferocity
This is not the time for an apology
I am simply citing my right to an apostrophe
Monopoly man, raise your hands
Keep them where I can see them while I pay your hands
Because he is not your savior, man
If the world hinges on a gamble then I'll take a chance
When the mariner, sailing over tropic seas, looks for relief from his weary watch, he turns his eyes toward the southern cross, burning luridly above the tempest-vexed ocean
As the midnight approaches, the southern cross begins to bend, the whirling worlds change their places, and with starry finger-points the Almighty marks the passage of time upon the dial of the universe, and though no bell may beat the glad tidings, the lookout knows that the midnight is passing and that relief and rest are close at hand
Let the people everywhere take heart of hope, for the cross is bending, the midnight is passing, and joy cometh with the morning
