1. |
Another Dozen Mouths
01:28
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How many genocides will we let slip by
without donning our armor
and remembering how to fight?
We live the flicker of a moment,
fading to bullets
and fists
and suicide.
I'm not any stronger than you,
but you're gone.
Took a bullet to the skull
from your own hands.
You always swore you'd craft your own end
even if it was the only thing
you could control.
I guess you made that happen
the way you wanted it to.
Still, I'd rather live in this war zone
buried alive with you,
than watch your final goodbye
from the rear-view.
Coffins bring no glory.
It's just another dead end,
but living's no guarantee of more.
A fist waits outside
every bathroom stall door,
and sometimes I wonder
why I stand and fight.
Then I remember.
You never said goodbye.
I won't let my body turn to ash
until it breathes its last
fist fight, a moment of glory.
I am a war club swinging your memory.
And when it all fades away,
as everything eventually does,
they'll scatter my ashes chanting war songs
and I'll know I live on.
Change will come
I will live
for a moment when the fight turns.
There's always another battle.
Long after I turn to dirt,
I'll be screaming your words.
It'll just be from another dozen mouths.
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2. |
Solidarity
01:10
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You can't build bridges in a war zone;
can't carve hope out of human flesh.
Our country is a tidal wave breaking.
We're buried in devastation to our necks.
Poor isn't just a state of being.
Poor is a lack of food, a constant gnawing.
Poor is the fear that keeps you up at night.
It's the dark streets you walk, only sleeping in the sunlight.
Poor is when every penny is desperation,
and you don't know how to let it go.
Poor is the reality we're living;
a country starving, fed our own flesh.
We sing solidarity, panting for clarity,
fighting for revelation surrounded by devastation.
We are your worst nightmare,
but we're living on the scraps.
That's why we fight back.
Sing solidarity. There's no peace; no charity.
When 90 hour work weeks aren't extreme,
you know the system's broken,
so let's rip it at the seams.
You can't build bridges in a war zone;
can't carve hope out of human flesh.
Our country is a tidal wave breaking.
We're buried in devastation to our necks.
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3. |
The Marching Song
00:27
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The watcher asks
the marching throng,
"Why can't we all
just get along?"
In stomping cries
they shout their reply,
feet never slowing
as they march on by.
"Silence doesn't change
as effectively as song.
Allowing injustice
will always be wrong.
I march and I sing
So someday peace rings.
But there is no peace
while justice weeps
and mothers cry in vain."
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4. |
Wanderlust in Rewind
00:16
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I have left every home I have ever dreamt.
My prayer is the poem my wheels spin.
Skylines and city scenes fall away behind
as the open road takes my mind and teaches it to rewind.
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5. |
Mr. Recruiter
01:31
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Mr. Recruiter, I hear what you say
about battling for freedom and the rights we hold today,
but I'm a veteran already, in a war since I was born,
fighting for survival against an all-powerful force.
See, the first battle fought lasted 18 years
against parents who ruled through iron fists and fear.
While I cowered in a corner, screaming for a savior,
their fists rained down as they cut off my air.
Each day was a war zone, but I wasn't allowed to fight;
only take the beatings rained down every night.
Mr. Recruiter, I know you understand.
I was a prisoner of war in my own land.
Don't tell me of glory. I know the truth of war.
Don't talk of honor. There's no justice in these scars.
Why should I fight for a country that forgot me?
How will more killing and fear bring peace?
You talk about the nation's safety like it's the first priority,
but quality of life should be what we seek.
Safety is a trap designed to subdue.
Guns don't make us safe. Happy people do.
Mr. Recruiter, I hear what you say
about battling for freedom and the rights we hold today,
but I'm a veteran already, in a war since I was born,
and the wars you fight only make more.
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6. |
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We've learned from the tanks on the street
Learned from the violence of the police
Learned how to run, yes
But also to compete
When you pull the grenade pin, armed to the teeth
Claiming you kill to protect the peace
As non-violent protesters scream in agony
Know that we're learning how you succeed
And next time, we'll fight to be free.
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James Avery Fuchs Pennsylvania
James Avery Fuchs is The Gayly Nerd. He is also a poet, public speaker,and author. He works as a resident counselor at a local complex trauma program in Pennsylvania.
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