For once in this life, we need
To be the ones who flew the coop
Away from the cuckoo’s nest
Of working our lives away with nothing to show
For them, if ever we can rein passion from pain
With words as our high art but action as our heart
To curtail the cowardly critics sent to be our bane
Posing to be p.c. when truly they suffer from o.c.d.
Endangering our freedom of expression
Throwing forks in the road
Of our way as though they can suppress
The transmissions of a revolution happening as we speak
Or diffuse the bomb of propaganda that their loyal
Lackeys of oligarchical bureaucracy have already leaked.