Built like a dream out of the past. Crushing generations with a foggy mass of seething anger and unhealed wounds. I can’t make this right but don’t be confused.
I am a rifle. I am this blockade. I’m banners and violence and car-bombs and riots. I am a rifle. I am this blockade. I am the fire of a thousand murdered sons.
Don’t look to me to give the future back. Don’t look to me to rework the past. I’m only here to bring things to a head. You can cover your ears, it doesn’t change who I am.
I am a rifle. I am this blockade. I’m banners and violence and car-bombs and riots. I am a rifle. I am this blockade. I am the fire of a thousand murdered sons.
I haunt the Chilcotin. I stalk Palestine. I fueled Rwanda’s worst. I held Lasagna’s hand. I’m one hundred shades of hunger.
I am a rifle. I am this blockade. I am the fire of a thousand murdered sons. I am resistance. I am your problem. I'm not leaving and I am your fault.