From, like, everywhere, man, every corner and square, every outta' the way lair, oppulent and spare, people are startin' to gather again, they're gettin' down, brothers and sisters of all classes and kinds, hipsters, flipsters, tripsters,new and vital mouths are mouthin' off over rights and wrongs, they're croonin' soulful, woeful songs, shovin' sanctified mish-mash, edified brain-bash, down the throats of our legislative fetters, our so-called betters, 'bout all those ersatz katz out there, and their bullshit bellicose regard for our burnin', yearnin' earth, the birth and consecrated worth of our dynamic struggle, We're like a thrice born phoenix, man, submerged in a new and laudable ethos, we're converging, emerging as a bold pathos of shimmering design and purpose, we're strugglin' to smile in the bitter black goo of complacency and diabolic resolve, we're screamin' and wailin' at the 'all hailin' man', at the barbed, razor-wire hands of justice, and obscene and haggard truth, and at the vicarious nefarious laxity of the absurd bureaucratic horde, empowered by the despot's desperate sword, and lording pedagogic above us, the enlightened fray; they're preachin' obvious crap and diligent confusion, and smashin', mashin', bashin' down hard on our righteous decrees, man, we're bein' dragged by these windbags, we're bein' flagged as fools, or 'quasi', retro, 'Idunno' hippies by all these beasts of vile rhetoric and outright, 'what-a-sight' obfuscation, (all scantilly clad in psuedo ethical rags); We gotta' rise up, man, we gotta' march, bark, harangue, cover the national green with ideas, we gotta' wake up the dumbin' down youth, the pretentiously uncouth, who're afraid of sweat or tears, man, we gotta' bang outta' call, amass at the mall, and demand accountability and change, 'cause down in Benning they're teachin' torture to latin kats, so as to spread our brand of hate and terror at home and abroad, and everywhere, all across this grand land, the ravages of stupidity abide, I mean, America's killin' her children, puttin' 'em to death, in chairs or with needles, provokin' stares and salivation,.. and pot smoker's, freedom invokers, they're all rottin' behind bars, in the name of the bars-and-stars, while the earth's real murderers are walkin' fancy-free, like fat rats, pokin' and proddin', drillin' death out of the ground and spewin' it into the sky; We've gotta scream and aspire, despite all the threats and shrugs from behind all the insulated walls, and the air-conditioned halls, and the well-kept, wellsprings of deceit, so we can end this all inclusive shame, this all inclusive blame, that's tearing our national soul apart; we've gotta' rise up, man, and kick some ass, we've gotta' make a world that'll finally last and do justice to the righteous causes of disrepair.