Time rewind my past tracks,

 As I hurtle towards the future.

I feel the need to fix the beat,

When I cannot refuse it.

Limitations are a key confliction,

Being quiet restricting,

On our country’s musical flow.  

Politicians can’t seem to follow,

The pace wanted in place, even with

The words clearly spewed from our faces.

Forced to this crescendo,

Isn't where I want to be. But,

“Let’s be led by the blind, dumb, and deaf!” Powerful voices said,

In sounding tones so sweet, and

I willingly played into this composed mess,

With the people so blissfully naive.

So the question still stands.

Am I the same, even though,

I see the dark,

hear the hate,

As I string my fiddle?

Or am I worse,

 As I follow tempo of this sickening melody,

 Well-informed of the wrong doings?