Empathy-Repeat
Empathy
I have sympathy and i got empathy, too.
the fear in the air is palpable blue.
Paranoia runs its course in America it's true
Like walkin’ down the street hearing people
talking to themselves but really, they’re talkin to you.
But I can't get angry anymore over and over,
the red white and blue, I’m the matador not the inflamed beast you view
It’s not like you don't have my sympathy
though I might be screwed up white and regrettably more like you than you’d
probably think, or like.
I just can't get angry anymore about who's
hating who
I'm getting old, not that much time to relate,
I barely understand my own fate, much less
yours
by the time I find what I'm looking for I
forgot what I wanted it for.
I know it's not nineteen sixty-eight, blind
revolutionary to the core, I had to relearn a normal life, the red and the
black, I had their back, but no one, not even you, can travel the swampland of
america, without breaking down and throwing up their hands
but I can't just lay down and take it anymore.
like Fred Hampton took his while he slept.
j Edgar ain't alive anymore, there's a lot of
people carrying him inside like there's a lot more of his kind spreading like
weeds like johnyappleseed, fifty years in future. history seeds 2025.
cloning as if they all are clowns, going to
give less, take more, as more of them/us walk through doors guns ablazin’.
You may be the generation didn't get more what
your parents earned from their daily bread, I can see you’re angry about that
in your head
You got my sympathies no mistaken about that
rap
but I can't just get angry anymore, over and
over the same ol’ crap, same reconciliations, same concessions, same
compromises and same lying faces.
But then if you go to Istanbul or I would
assume anyplace in Africa you'd already know the sky shines on a different set
of races, our Great Mothers birthplace, not only all our colors of all our
skins, also the disaster from our hatred, from which our fears arise amid our
futures born out of disguise into the worlds masquerade.
It looks as if we've all been shuttered and
closed for too long a time, dead and dying like n ghost towns, each of us
wishing to discover a new pot of gold inside our heads, instead of one last
suicidal binge, one last resurrection.
Now that the buffalo no longer roam the home
on the range and everything ever known got shot at, rusted out, broken down and
blown up, I just can't get angry anymore despite all that, deep down inside I
want change, just like you. Look at me now and you'll be looking at you in
futures past, I'm your future and you're my past, I need more change than that,
I need change, it's me I need to fix, and all the people like me, like you too,
change but we all come with dumpster trash and China and Malaysia don't want to
take it anymore and the beautiful sea is not shining from all the crap floating
like islands waiting to be discovered and preyed upon by building military
bases and making whatever lives die out there beyond our grasp.
we haven't found anyone or anything to save us
from ourselves,
Brother and sister we're all the first
generation without any illusions, no trust in what came before is delusion,
constitution unequal democratic institutions, nothing works as advertised nor
for as long nor in case of emergency only seeing if at least one will kill at
least one that’s bothering me, what's waking me up sweat, something on my mind,
killing sprees. We are what we want to see. Even so yeah, maybe you have my
empathy,
Maybe it's about time you got some, too. Or
gave some out. Without us getting down on our knees.
We're all the first generation of a great
extinction, everyone living out the shelter of dying expectations, everyone
dying because our unacceptable pride where everything from the bird in the sky
to the fish in the sea, can't we believe it isn't going to end or be rendered
null and void, stamped trampled and buried like some sort of spiritual
vendetta, the experiment failed, Frankenstein on the rise, more human, less
wise, and the list of oppressed gets mentioned at every dawn and sunset, like
calls to prayer or a litany that thrives, keeps us energized, that's our dope,
man, mantra for the coming slaughter.
It appears that hardly any of their shit they
spent so much manipulating us about, convincing us for, selling us what never
worked like it was supposed to.
The engineers that built it and the profiteers
that changed it, the government's that regulated it, the earth that was
destroyed because of it never made us as ecstatic as promised it would.
We’ve been taken for a long ride, like the one
out to Pluto to discover it isn't a planet we need to worry about.
like the one ride that convinced us that once
we die there's eternal life waiting for us, a long boring choir filled praising
of gods glory, instead give me at least what little there is of freedom left on
this earth, I’ll take it and go and try to forget what I was taught, I’m going
to die before all is lost, and that’s not hope, my friend, that’s the dope
fiend talkin, maybe you’ll want to join me, and we can start all over again,
rather than trying to keep the dam from busting, we can try and forget all these
delusions, illusions they keep killing us with, and figure out how to love and
be free without trying and dying over who the authority is going to be in 2025
or anytime.
The fate of the world doesn’t depend on who is
elected president but on who are we going to defend and when we get started by
not going to the streets but more by what we decide to eat,
I got empathy,
Maybe it’s time you got some too.
And giving a little too.
Before we rise like the tide, your time is done,
a vision of justice in one hand, a love of freedom in the other, we will not be
alone.
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