Dates (©2005-2014 John T. Windle)
Heiwa, heiwa, heiwa, bite!
New York, September eleventh.
London, Thursday July the seventh.
How to defend against a suicide?
Hide in the countryside?
Immigrants arrive with inhibitions,
fenced-out, adopting defensive positions.
Security is not a god-given, right?
Even so…the dislocated flow in from broken countries
with visions to prosper and grow
And the kids are all tweeting: Wha’ hoo!
(Instrumental)
Whistleblowers buffeted by duress
as moguls mutilate the freedom of the press.
Do you reluctantly vote
or get organised and resolve to rock the boat?
Adolf, Franco then a Pinochet.
Military repetitive cliché ricochets.
How do despondents overcome the drums
of the guns of maniacal prodigal sons?
And still…the president is hand-cuffed and roughed-up
by the cronies on Capitol Hill
And the kids are still tweeting: Wha-hoo!
(instrumental)
Please give me more likes.
Sapients accelerated learning,
transcended evolution by some home cooking.
Your diet becomes the very whole of you.
My search engine has filter pistons,
rejecting attacks of marketing incisions.
My birthdays have become so meaningless.
They’re ill. Recovery unlikely with virtual
similarity therapy pills.
The kids get numbed with tweeting.
Nothing at all seems awesome.
The screen was my only friend.
Why do I feel nothing?
Heiwa, heiwa, heiwa, bite!
New York, September eleventh.
London, Thursday July the seventh.
How to defend against a suicide?
Hide in the countryside?
Immigrants arrive with inhibitions,
fenced-out, adopting defensive positions.
Security is not a god-given, right?
Even so…the dislocated flow in from broken countries
with visions to prosper and grow
And the kids are all tweeting: Wha’ hoo!
(Instrumental)
Whistleblowers buffeted by duress
as moguls mutilate the freedom of the press.
Do you reluctantly vote
or get organised and resolve to rock the boat?
Adolf, Franco then a Pinochet.
Military repetitive cliché ricochets.
How do despondents overcome the drums
of the guns of maniacal prodigal sons?
And still…the president is hand-cuffed and roughed-up
by the cronies on Capitol Hill
And the kids are still tweeting: Wha-hoo!
(instrumental)
Please give me more likes.
Sapients accelerated learning,
transcended evolution by some home cooking.
Your diet becomes the very whole of you.
My search engine has filter pistons,
rejecting attacks of marketing incisions.
My birthdays have become so meaningless.
They’re ill. Recovery unlikely with virtual
similarity therapy pills.
The kids get numbed with tweeting.
Nothing at all seems awesome.
The screen was my only friend.
Why do I feel nothing?