calling for a desperate rendition,

overcoming our present condition,

living as we do in this perdition.

All of those who’ve signed it with a tear

tend on short notice to disappear.

Retribution is the soul of fear.

There are men who make it a career.

Protest has become an aberration

in the current version of the nation.

It can earn a brisk one-way vacation

to some remote desert changing station.

It has all come down to them and us.

Them ride Escalades, us ride the bus.

We are warned to never make a fuss

by our leaders, all omnivorous.

Thinking about putting down the pen,

sign it later, though I don’t know when,

or if I will get this chance again.

Feel like meat inside the lion’s den.