How To Clean Everything

We spoke our minds too clearly.
We assumed fundamental rights were inherent
Not as pawns but humyns.
I do not require a gauge for freedom of speech
Cuz i never asked to be a citizen.
I never have and never will pledge allegiance.
Waking up each morning with confusion in my eyes.
The wind is biting through to wave "hello".
Seeing my reflection, an exterior of lies.
I hope this shaky feeling doesn't show.
As if i had to tell you there was little left to say.
Stilted conversations colored blue.
You were sitting down and you got up to walk away.
I tried to stay but i was right behind you.
Tension in the stair, i cannot bear so close to helpless
As this song i sing. inside me ring.
Final words are boring, never touch,
I know you whispered something in my ear.
I couldn't hear you.
Girls with the greenest eyes. the first time you have kissed.
Our quiet softest sighs.
A song for all of those who shot and missed.
Welcomed to this world, imputed identity.
Born, tagged, tattooed, pacified.
Generously bestowed my rights and privileges replete.
Arbitrary values ascribed.
There's nothing i can tell you. there's nothing i can say.
Stunted conversation, censored thought.
I'm completely free, at liberty, guaranteed
Unless of course you decide i'm not.
But i'll not be resigned to, fall in line behind you.
Tension in the air i cannot bear
So what the fuck am i accomplishing? absolutely nothing.
All these words are boring, it's time for action.
But you've taught me to be a pawn.
It won't last for long.
Those who see through the lies are quickly gagged and bound.
Ambition realized, tear the whole fucking thing down.

It's something physical, conditioned reaction.
It's something physical, conditioned attraction.
But have i finally escaped?
Will my eyes no longer rape the innocent womyn, children, humyn beings?
Seeing the pain that it brings.
Shallow, superficial decision.
Real beauty obscured by my television.
But this just in! bikini film at ten.
The female anchor smiles and shrugs it off,
"boys will be boys!"
Do you really wanna be our fucking toys?
And in again, condone it with a grin.
Sit back, idly chat, smile, prove you're just a fuck machine.
Is that what you really wanna fucking be??
Conditioned reaction. conditioned attraction.
Conditioned suggestion. conditioned rejection.
And yet again, subjecting womyn.
The female anchor's fists finally clinched,
"i'm not your fucking toy!"
And though i long to embrace, i will not misplace my priorities:
Humor, opinion, a sense of compassion, creativity,
And a distaste for fashion.

Three choices. one bullet. one trigger. guess who gets to pull it.
One leader. a thousand slaves.
For every throne there's a thousand graves.
You're all the same. just part of their machine.
Perpetuate their dream.
They subsidize your nightclubs and they subsidize your malls.
They herd and brand the masses within painted prison walls.
'til your freedom of assembly becomes the missiles they create.
Or just mass delusion dancing to this music that you fucking hate.
But i'm not the same. i'm not part of your fucking machine.
I'll jeopardize their dream.
I'd rather be imprisoned in a george orwell-ian world
Than your pacified society of happy boys and girls.
I'd rather know my enemies and let you know the same.
Whose windows to smash and whose tires to slash
And where to point the fucking blame.
One future. two choices. oppose them or let them destroy us.

Bowl of cherries in waskasoo creek.
A sylvan way of life for those who seek none beyond a parkland mall.
This land scape oasis now feigns city hall.
And they call this peace.
Not how it seems to me. sugar-coated disease.
Buckle at the knees.
Your members of parliament lining their garments
With hides of the masses (their heads stuck up their asses).
Bald little soldiers, flags sewn to their shoulders.
This insight spawns despair.
Why am i not part of this?
Pine cone wealth and cedar fence bliss?
All your novel themes that keep you amused on your way to
The canadian, flag-waving-aryan, mother fucking, cock sucking dream.
Oh yeah!
Nobody cares about the state of affairs.
You can turn blue in the face, but you cannot erase.
Oblivious to the obvious.
I'm making perfect sense but i'm not getting through.
Progress overdue.
But don't expect to find me with a note left to be read.
Pistol in my hand and a bullet in my head.
Because this census indicates and this atlas has related
3 billion humyns i haven't irritated.
I've got a lot of work to do. 3 billion people.
That's 3 billion snotty fuck you's
Fuck you, fuck all of you.

my father told me "son, it's futile to resist,
You can topple ideology but not the armies they enlist."
I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting war.
"well that's the sound of freedom, son" he said.
(free to say no more.)
But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom?
Well, if you're dumb enough to vote,
You're fuckin dumb enough to believe him.
Cuz if this country is so goddam free.
Then i can burn your fucking flag wherever i damn well please,
And i will stick the fucking flag up your ass
I carried their anthem, convinces it was mine.
Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line.
But then i stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me.
Made accomplice to all that i'd promised i would never fucking be.
Never be.
You carry their anthem convinces that it's yours.
Invitation to honor. invitation to war.
Bette midler now assumes sainthood.
Romanticize murder for moral.
Tie a yellow ribbon round the oak tree my friend,
And "gee wally, that's swell!"
Fuck the troops to hell!

I wanna chew my bubble gum with you.
And i wanna walk you home from school.
And i wanna carry your books to every class.
And i wanna fuck you up the ass.
Girl, don't you know it's true, how much i love you.
I wanna sing it 'cross the land, oh won't you hold my hand?
She tells me that she loves me,
Now i'm gonna tell her that i love her.
She tells me that she loves me,
Now i'm gonna try and fuck her.
But where the hell are my priorities?
Left in the hands of the authorities.