They smile for the cameras,
shake hands with hollow palms,
talk about freedom
while writing fine print that no one reads.
shake hands with hollow palms,
talk about freedom
while writing fine print that no one reads.
The stage lights are blinding.
We clap because we’re told to,
as strings pull tighter
and wooden faces nod in sync.
We clap because we’re told to,
as strings pull tighter
and wooden faces nod in sync.
They call it “democracy”
but the script’s been rehearsed.
Every line and every law
has already been approved backstage.
but the script’s been rehearsed.
Every line and every law
has already been approved backstage.
Maybe one day
we’ll cut the cords ourselves,
step off the stage,
and remember what real voices sound like.
we’ll cut the cords ourselves,
step off the stage,
and remember what real voices sound like.
