we aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution.
and sometimes i think that the whole movement is just me and you
and maybe we'd all be better off if that was true
cause then we'd at least know where we stand
and we could tell our comrades apart from the man
cause if the world isn't that simple
maybe this town is at least
and if i'm not marching with them for war i'm sure not marching with you for peace
class traitor? what fucking ever!
i'm just another middle class kid, too.
but if i'm not good at changing, i'm good at self loathing
so i'll class hate myself with you.
may our only occupation be not having a job
and may the only cocktails we make be molotov
may that day be now, and for as many days after that as we know how
it starts in this parking lot, and in my dreams, i am dirty broke beautiful and free.
my hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching too many miles.
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