What do you do when the knowledge finally seeps through?
Can you enjoy your freedom with the enslaved watching you?
What do you do when you have too many mountains to move?
Will you dirty your own hands trying to dig up the truth?
Can you worry about only the things that you pick and choose?
The trivial nuisance of something like gum on your shoe,
the convivial looseness of someone who means nothing to you;
What do you do when the call has rung loudly through?
Can you hurry out and scream about things you must do?
Will you fizzle out and fade away like so many before you?
What do I do when it’s time to reach out and grab onto,
The material rips, my fingers stick with pin pricks of VooDoo,
the unusual fits that linger and stick in the thick of the shit you do.