les femmes

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something. Light weights step to the side when we come in. Healing the blind I promise to let the sun in. Sick of the dark ways we march to the drum and jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping. Fuck that! I wanna see some fists pumping. Risk something, take back what's yours. Say something that you know they might attack you for. I'm sick of being treated like I have before. Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for. Like this war's really just a different brand of war. Like it doesn't cater the rich and abandon poor. These fuckers are laughing their way to the bank and cashing the cheque asking you to have compassion and have some respect. For a leader so nervous in an obvious way, stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay. In my living room watching but I am not laughing cause when it gets tense I know what might happen. World is cold, the bold men take action, have to react or get blown into fractions. Ten years old it's something to see, another kid my age drugged under a jeep. Taken and bound and found later under a tree. I wonder if he had thought the next one could be me. Do you see? The soldiers they're out today, they brush the dust from bullet proof vests away. It's ironic, at times like this you pray but a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday. My dad he's got a lot of fear, I know, but enough pride inside not to let that show. My brother had a book he would hold with pride, a little red cover with a broken spine; on the back, he hand-wrote a quote inside "when the rich wage war it's the poor who die". Meanwhile, the rest of the world watching at the end of the day, both scared and angry like "what did he say?". With hands held high into the sky so blue as the ocean opens up to swallow you.