We’re grazing revolution with our brittle fingertips
And breathing heavy in the halls of counterfeit love
Digging ditches for the bricks of politics
And scratching sidewalk chalk on down the highways of our hope
My ambition is desperation
My religion is uncertainty
I will not worship distance and ambiguity and power
But I will sing the praises of the heathens with heart beats and stomping feet
I will tithe before the poor who don’t start wars and don't eat meat
And I will bow to no one until my ankles are cut with ballots
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