Monday, July 11, 2005

In the service of my dreams

A deep dark flame sits inside me
relentless. A keeper of death
It knows deceit, and strangeness
It sees the dying children
of social experimentation
the long trail of repression
leading to the money made by me
It asks if I should make something
for evil. To avoid the monsters that
knock on my door, that audit my soul
to save my family
to serve my dreams
what price would I pay.
A thousand dollars here,
some portion of my life.
Some set of hours every year
to assure I go so far.
To protect my future from the creditors
who won't trust a non-payer
or the officers, the judges who doubt the
credibility of one that doesn't pay their salary.
If I do this I ensure tomorrow for me
I'll ignore those who die in poverty
struggling on economies broken, manipulated
torn, by our meddling, and my money.
Funding the weapons, the interests, the goons
pointing the guns at you today.
For a small price I am assured protection,
no one knocking down my door, no one taking my future.
From the ashes, and the blood of a lesser world
I purchased my dreams. For the interest and illusion
of democracy I am secure from the taxman.
The flame burns to keep my silent
remember the rule
remember social reponsibility
remember your dreams it says.
Its a small price to pay, from a paycheck
here or there. Its for safety, security, our military
our country. A little each day I keep the world
safe for democracy, by buying your grave.