Ain’t it hard
just to live? There’s no accounting for people or what passes for right and
wrong. I’d been shooting my mouth off. I was up to no good with nowhere to turn
but bad. I’d deviated from the norm. I’d
been scaring the neighbours. Somebody called the cops. Yeah, somebody called
the cops. But I know my rights.
“You have the
right to obey. Compliance is mandatory. There is only one rule: obey all the
rules.”
They held me
on trumped-up charges of lewd behaviour and vagrancy. They confiscated my shoelaces. They
confiscated my humanity. They took me to a doctor who said,
“What’s wrong
with his head is anybody’s guess. He needs to be disinfected. He’s channelling
subversive vibrations. We’d better lock
him up; I think that’s for the best.”
They put me
in the quiet room, where I’d plan for my escape. I’d tiptoe right out of
there. I’ve learned to play their game.
I level up
heavy again and again. But I don’t complain. That’s just my lot; it’s always been
this way. Mania is a gift from the cosmos.
The truth don’t stop. It’s rolling on hard, like the driven rain. I have a face
for every season. They can’t take that from me.
