they're the ones you know.
they're always the ones.
they never do anything
but sit at meetings giggling and disrupting
they push themselves a little too far.
(the chair is getting upset.
you can tell because there's a crack in one of its legs.
pity. same thing would happen to his face if he smiled.).
they're the ones who don't want any leaders.
it's bourgeois not to want leaders, you know.
i think this discussion is middle class.
(no shouting, honey. they don't want no shouting
you can't say shit if you don't follow
robert's rules of middle class order.)
sometimes i wonder if i'mn supposed to have pity
sometimes while dancing
in the middle of a turn
with one arm raised in the air
i think about that algerian woman
laughing and fighting and laughing
laughing the victory laugh
shaking her flag and laughing
in the face of the french.
all of your correct political organizations.
all your demigod leaders
all your correct line
won't buy you shit
when it's your veil that gets ripped away
and i am the one left standing
-sister species of crow, o.c.