Six black vans. Two cop cars. A school bus with blacked out windows. Ice convoy.
Mar-A-Lago Alcatraz. Leave the alligators out of this mess.
Shadow on my soul. Fear I’ll die under torture by the government.
I wake in the night thinking of Montreal. Mornings I wake up at home.
Took the garbage out this morning. The local systems are still working.
Local systems are best. You only drop bunker busters on strangers.
Gil Scott-Heron said, “The Revolution will not be televised.” Hi.
No matter what, we must keep fighting. You and I can beat back the fash.
Saw you in the Square that fine day, screaming about a revolution.
Two Trumpers and a thousand screaming, dancing, feisty lefties. Winning.
Broadcast From the Brain Radio 