Marching as a Luxury

Frozen hands in the pockets. Silence as a mockery

Broken shoes on the pavement. There’ll be no more escapee.

If you had enough fingers to count the times you’ve been lied to,

You‘ll be the king of this city.

Just agree to disagree.

Just avoid the reaching hands, Watch those clowns on tv.

And they’ll tell you with a smile condescension wins anyway.

It’s always better with a smile to swallow the truth you die to say.

Drowned in a thought they’ll sell you, you’ll get the point no matter what.

It always comes down to a lie.

“It's always better with a smile” they say.

Matching masks, hand painted signs.

Marching as a luxury. Betrayed tired faces.

Anger as a therapy.

And they’ll tell you with a smile how things could be so much worse.

Frozen hands, broken shoes, give us at least a fight to choose.

A wave of millions fake smiles to come

A desperate situation, when a brief hope just turns to none.