Every time summer vacation came round, the parents were in the habit of sending their two children to the country, far away from the bustle of the city. So every July, Julien and his little siste ... [+]
This life
was not the story we were told from the crib side this is not
what it was like on the black and white pages I read
for the world is grey not from ash and smoke but from
shades of voices
with lies and screens and politics agreeing; throw sand in our eyes and blind us
to the whole truth.
Where is the hallowed band of rebels
where
are the
seekers of hope
to do good and make things right instead of
tearing us apart from the inside
like the other side but both sides
are called the other.
I am not a revolutionary I’m just tired
of the world, the war, being called the villain because of where I was born
and what I believe and hold true in a time when
chaos replaces change and we make enemies of ourselves.
This was not in the books this was not in the books
was not the story we were told from the crib side this is not
what it was like on the black and white pages I read
for the world is grey not from ash and smoke but from
shades of voices
with lies and screens and politics agreeing; throw sand in our eyes and blind us
to the whole truth.
Where is the hallowed band of rebels
where
are the
seekers of hope
to do good and make things right instead of
tearing us apart from the inside
like the other side but both sides
are called the other.
I am not a revolutionary I’m just tired
of the world, the war, being called the villain because of where I was born
and what I believe and hold true in a time when
chaos replaces change and we make enemies of ourselves.
This was not in the books this was not in the books