Wild Fire, Pt. I

Is it duplicity?
Performative racist deceit?
Cheap shock theatre
To which we should pay no heed?
Or is this real?
The sincere language of cowards?
Like the denial of Peter the Apostle
Ashamed of your master
Of your pariah’s gospel?
I can’t help but smile
At the fascist’s curious insistence
Of demanding to have a master
And daring to call this resistance
Run!
Like rats through a sewer
Roaches from torchlight, run!
Run!
Like rats through a sewer
Roaches from torchlight, run!
Fear now
Far now
Fear now
Fear now cold day’s light!
Ther’s nothing in these songs
Of which to be ashamed
Everything we sing about
I’d just as plainly say
There’s nothing in these songs
Of which to be ashamed
Everything we sing about
I’d just as plainly say
For the noble flame of integrity
Will surely always win
As dawn brings
The Reckoning!