Your voices make little difference,
The wind has the power to defeat
And take away all this dire screaming
But leave blisters and scars on your feet.
You can dress in vaginal outfits,
Give a finger to every young cop
Throw water bottles
At barking Alsatians,
There is nothing to say you must stop.
Urinate on the stars and stripes if you want,
Wipe your feet or your ass on the flag,
Smash up a Starbucks
(But don’t expect to get served),
Smash up banks
(Who financed your candidate),
And shout down the scum who you hate.
But it won’t make any difference
I can assure you,
The bed in the attic’s still there,
The food stamps will keep on arriving,
And the wind will still blow in your hair.
The streets will be cleared in the morning
As sad bitter people disperse,
To the buses and trains and planes waiting,
And the undertaker driving the hearse.