As the siege stretched on for the sixteenth straight day they–
they strengthened their resolve.
Their voices grew hoarse, their logic quite opaque,
but what the hell, they’d got us by the balls.
And without a hint of irony they stood up and cried,
“but we have guns in our hands, and God on our side,
and we don’t know what we want, but it better come tonight,
or we’ll burn it all down. We’ll burn the whole thing down.”
And each among us turned to his own respective screen
and we all waited for the speaker to speak.
He stood stock-still, as if behind him were a man
eight feet tall with two sets of teeth.
The voices from the right reached an unforgiving pitch.
They sure can’t do their jobs, but, they sure know how to bitch, and,
the longer this goes on, the more sincerely I believe it’s time we
burn this house down.
Where are our voices? Where is the rage?
Have we forgotten how we got here–forgotten how we got here?
The longer this goes on, the more sincerely I believe it’s time we
burn this house down. Let’s burn the whole thing down.
And just before the train went careening off the tracks
they untied the conductor, slapped him on the back.
Said, “boy, go do your job, you’ve got a train to drive,
what the hell’re you doing on sitting on your ass?”
They cut the ropes they’d tied, held them high above their heads,
said, “When February comes we can do it all again!”
One will bring the kindling and the other bring the light and they
swear to God–for real this time–they’ll burn the whole thing down.