Long Memories

Mired in the 9 to 5
day to day
get you paid
Mired in the A to B
here to there
and back again
Mired in the blinder’s faith
do not hear
do not see
And speak about the avenues
the grass is green
we are so free
Free above the poverty
privileged me
and mighty thee
Free above wretched wastes
where skeletons
strike brittle stakes
Yet mired in our apathy
we sign the warrant
on our fate

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