I sit in a classroom

Where my teacher tells me to stand and demand.

She says that it's all up to me

To fix all the world's problems we hear and see.

The wind blows inside and I unravel my sail,

But there are so many problems over the globe and I'll probably fail.

How could I ever think I could change the world

When its coldness like an iceberg sinks my endeavor;

I'm just one little girl.

How do you expect me, Teacher, to handle your burden and solve all your problems?

That includes wars, exploitation and slavery, and Congress can't handle half of them.

It's unfair to drop your bundle of responsibilities on the next generation

When it was yours and before's fault for the world's laceration.

But if my generation does not stand which one will?

And if I do not stand, the thing is that no one will,

Until the poisonous smog adds to the populations metaphorical blindness,

And people in their realization that money cannot force a forest to make oxygen, will be left breathless.

When "they" slowly take away everyone's rights,

And the public schools are closed and everyone forgets how to write,

Then how will our progeny stand and demand?

Knowing this, I have to act

Before the world has a heart attack.

I want to change its fate

Because if no one starts, the problems won't wait.

They will increase at a cataclysmic rate.

So the time is now to stand and demand

But I can only do so with another palm in my hand.



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