A million people drink a million bottles of Gatorade on the way to the park.
Some sentiment or the other was expressed but nobody was really listening.
Nobody could hear over the sound of their own voices.
A million people mobilized to sound and fury
And a million people walk home
Pretending like the revolution is some party you can stumble home drunk from
Something in their eyes
Check your glasses for dystopia
Check the forecast for dystopia
Clear skies except for dystopia
Situation normal, all fucked up
Cornflakes and mouthwash for the brown jungle men
More cargo from the shining, stinking cities
Washing down the river to the sea
Check the barcodes for dystopia
Price check for dystopia on aisle three
Cleanup on aisle three
Spray it down with Lysol and rub it down till gleams
Till you can see your face in it
Disinfectant smile
Party’s over, change has been made
Let’s all go home to our shiny metal boxes
“Contestants in a suicidal race”
Tuck ourselves into bed and pray for more clear skies
And dystopia