Dust the air with words of hope,
Irate action, love we cloak.
Thoughts of future, minds divine;
Let us anger, stoke, and brine.
Hate the hateful, now Us: their swine.
Ideals of love, share bitter wine.
Flood the air with fears, our hope.
Groundless action: at filth we grope.
Fall upon the ranks of man;
Grovel to be free,
Apathetic to be left to mourn.
Rise upon the man of lords;
Nothing can live in this valley of life,
Nothing can wither that is not born.
Sit atop the lords of none;
Weathered is our kin,
Incoherent are their sons.
Isaac Olajos
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