Yes yes, no no,

They all say different things

But it all means the same thing

To you

 

They say “I’ll try”

Or they’ll put it in a file

But in the end you’ll only hear the words

“There is nothing we can do.”

 

Nothing we can do,

How imminent that sounds!

Nothing.  Nothing. Nothing.

On and on

 

Laws stop us,

Rules get in our way

And choke us, their purposes long

Gone.

 

They won’t reply.

They won’t hear your call.

Don’t you know, you silly child? Democracy

Is broken.

 

All that is left

Is the sad hollow shell that no one

Can touch, nothing more than

A token.

 

They will tell you

All of these things and more.

They will reprimand you for your

Silliness.

 

They will tell you

To go home, don’t waste your time,

They are only looking out for your best

Interests.

 

But do not listen.

Do not heed their words because they lie

And theirs are the tongues of the

Tired.

 

They have fought

And argued and didn’t budge their ground

Just as you will when your heart

Is fired

 

But they didn’t see change.

They only saw the struggle

And the stubbornness of the

World

 

And they worked

Until their hearts fell and their hands

Were still and their flags

Were furled

 

But that is not your fate!

You can paint the globe!

All you need to do is to look just

Past.

 

Past the wailing ghosts

Of failures gone by, their

Shadows still clinging softly to every vestige of

Precedent

 

Past all those who tell you

You can’t, you won’t, there’s nothing you can do

Because those words do not mean what

Is meant.

 

“There is nothing we can do”

They say, but they mean there is nothing they will

Do because there is always something

You can do.

 

We are human

And the world is at our fingertips

And we were meant to fight, to struggle,

To lose.

 

But we are human

And we were also made to win

If we try and we work and the Lord gives

His blessing.

 

There is something you can do.

You can breath and speak and scream and change

The world but you must hurry because the world

Is pressing.

 

And those tired teachers

Sitting behind creaking wooden desks don’t know

The fire, the passion in your

Soul

 

If they did, they wouldn’t stop

At anything to push you through

The bleak, knotty, jungle of life that snags

And pulls

 

They would stand up

Get out of those comfortable chairs,

Nailed to the ground by their sleepy

Neglect

 

They would remember

All that they once knew they could do

When the world was there and mom was

Always correct

 

And they would lift you up

On the shoulders of the tired

Carrying you like they were never carried

And say

 

There is always something

You can do, but you cannot delay

Because the world is already ready to change

Today.