They can't see no reasons.

all they do is sit around and dream of past movements

and watch their past dreams on multi-pixelated screens paid for with money from their Jobs

best screen ever

keep challenging, keep asking, protesting,

says their past self screaming through pixelated mouths

pixelated eyes wide and pleading

placards saying fuck your apathy, keep fighting, keep fighting

they watch with the occasional bite out of a freshly tossed salad

If only we had known that it wouldn't turn out to be nothing

If only nothing meant more than pixels on expensive screens

If only we'd been given more belief

We'd be waving our fists against nozzles that spit holes into our bodies that spill our blood as we fall to the floor

We'd be kissing the ground that belongs to us

We'd believe it belonged to us.

rebel rebel rebel

there's always someone

worth fighting

for.