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Ironclad becomes subjective
When we lose the prime directive and
Conversations always seem to red-line.
Newsfeeds bouncing up and down like
Insta-snap ro-de-o clowns they're
Left and right and wrong all at the same time
(We should ne asking) How's it going? How are we doing? (Not) How far gone is too far for a lifeline?
(Has anybody noticed) Right is gone now, no one's wrong now?
The only walls we've built are in our own minds!
Even silence runs hard from the sound,
And sanity digs underground.
We're nowhere bound down to the wire.
Tik-tok tweeting ALL-CAPS LOUD,
Like Flex-Sealing a stuck-up crowd.
Even mushroom clouds aspire.
Open doors on silver platters, yet
Never minding over matters.
There's new distractions every day to follow.
So we sit behind little glass barricades and
Lob insults like hand grenades.
And none of it seems very hard to swallow.
(Have you ever wondered) What's the joke here? Where's the punchline?
Is history old news now? Are we flying blind?
(Is anybody asking) What's the plan here? Where's the exit?
Do we wish on stars that never will align?
All these memes that seem important
Flood in like some two-Bit-Torrents and
Likes and comments run aground.
There's science books in rubbish piles and
Empathy is on anti-virals.
It's a xenophiles' playground!
Time spent scrolling to the stars,
Changing what and who we are.
It may not look like chains and bars,
But it will get you just as far.
Ironclad became subjective
When we lost the prime directive
And situations turned into lifetimes.
All we took and gave for granted,
All these seeds we should have planted...
Always caught up waiting for the right time.