My mouth is full of your inspiration

Cut me, size me down for your regulation

Nothing stands so close to driving

Nothing gets tense or biting

Nothing stands in the way

It's all right, your walls are still white

Location is everything, or so it seems

Writing down all your "wrongs" or "rights"

In a book you call your own

Stand down

Silence kills the revolution

All that remains stagnant dies

Submission is your resolve

They've given you all the calls

Sucker punched again

Blind