I’m Out

Fuck it, I’m out.
It’s gotten to that point where the rat’s got to swim.
You all seem so intent on looking out for that prime number
The one that doesn’t divide very well.
The one that always equals itself when everything is square.
It’s time I took the goddamn hint.

This isn’t my country anymore.
If it ever was, it was because I was blind and deluded.
Suckered into a mass hysteria dream
Where we are all convinced we could do better.
When we stood firm on the ground with reason.

No, that’s just a trick.
We’ve never evolved much past our tree swinging days
Take that both ways
One’s a religion and the other’s a state.
Weren’t the pillar and the rock supposed to be
Dare I say it -
Separate but equal?

What for?
I paid my dues, said my pledges and did my time.
All it got was me was high enough
To see just how it operates.
I served, learned, lived,
breathed, marched, swore,
defended, amended, rear-ended,
contrited,
delighted,
ignited.

That’s bit is supposed to look like a torn flag
Clever?
Cleverer than a constitution.
Cleverer than a highly cherished societal rule.
A hummurabi’s code of our generational search for justice.
Where laws are just bad memories.
Callous exclusion of little details.
The poor, the disdvantaged, the infirm, the broken
the callous, the jaded, the hated, US.

That part looks like nothing.
It’s pure slight of hand.
An optical trick to simulate depth.

Can we call ourselves civilized?
When so much goes wrong
When so many really fucking suffer.
It seems kinda broken.
All around us jagged and burnt out doll houses.
Each of us coming to terms
with awakeing from that same mass hysteria dream.
A collective consciousness,
deigned and designed
to enforce its enrollment.
A controlling custom of cutscene contraptions.

What if we got it all wrong, folks?
What if we actually invented the devil.
We built a machine and system so broken
That it tailors our own personal unhappily ever after.
Full of everything wrong with the world.

We fight for our happiness.
We look for a deeper meaning in the words and the songs.
But it might be time to forget all that.
To put away childish things
And to remember
what’s important.

And to remember
That the only alternative is.
A collective and chorused,
“fuck it, I’m out.”