Philosophy is dead.
May theory reign supreme.
For we don’t reflect,
and we care.
We are your neighbors, your daughters and sons,
We are nothing to fear,
Yet we are everything you hate.
We are hear and we are loud.
We are and will be hear
until this work is done.
In too deep in hell,
or have I gone to heaven?
Only time will tell.
Why do we hunt for truth
for those who were once our jesters?
There is more comedy in truth than comedy now
and we are but only in the first throws
of the labels in this century’s era.
and a degeneration of a mass produced culture
full of plastic and dead beauty.
Need not sacrifice joy in the revolution
but expand it
and find it one day sustainable.
and mass production.
Where is our savior street artist now?
Do not patronize me,
for better or worse
there must be benevolence to art.
The romantic dialoque of the starving struggle
is no movie based happy ending.
For in real life,
the story carries on the next day.