Last night,
They handed out awards
To the sell-out whores
God, I wish I were one of them
At fading light,
We wandered past stores
With plywood front-doors
And products we had to pretend
Season of loss
Season of tears
Season where seasons
Of the past truly recede
Season of fury
Season of doubt
Season of quantifying
What we can no longer
Live without
Last year,
The unlucky and unsaved
Were dropped in a mass grave
Before an anonymous witness
I could really feel
My coping methods fail
As the Molotov cocktail sailed
Toward my sense of justice
Season of loss
Season of deceit
Season where seasons of
The boom met defeat
Season of pity
Season of rage
Season of the ten-block radius
Feeling like a cage
Yesterday,
A stranger said to burn down my neighborhood
And many good people agreed they should
While old reliable considered buying a gun
I couldn’t say,
Whether I’d die for the reform
For victims and villains unborn
Or if I’m only riding out the storm
Season of loss
Season of faith
Season where seasons
Of action had to hesitate
Season of disaster
Season of strength
Season of being thankful
For your shoes, your pen,
And the pavement
