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by Nevada Kerr

In a brutal world endowed with reason
Rumors and gossip pass for news
As I fight for a freedom you call treason
I can hear wage slaves singing the blues

I'd say that I'm out of practice
But I don't believe hope is the answer
With all that's now stacked against us
I must concede, the Pope is a cancer

And love's a game for madmen and fools
For society dames who follow the rules
And money's a gas, good taste or bad
When you're wearing a mask
No one cares if you're sad

But I'm much too poor to be misunderstood
I can't even afford a house in the hood
So it isn't for gain and it isn't for greed
When I labor in vain for the things that I need

Written by © Raven Drake
July 17, 2007.

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Created: October 2007 © Paul Kinder Last Updated: 21/10/07