The Pain Man Sings

The smoke coming out the arena in old town square is never harmless.

Chanting voices in the airwaves sound so sharp, they’re charmless.

I step forward, one with the crowds, dancing to the sound of sirens.

All we’ve ever known here is abuse so we enjoy the violence.

Amplifiers know we hear them, we just don’t listen with our souls.

Their five year plan was to ruin us, and they’ve been scoring every goal.

Cellular devices all over the city lose power when the Pain Man sings.

If you don’t denounce “truth to power”, he will kiss you with blue rings.

As we approach the thick smoke, people are torn out of the groups.

I look around only to see they’re dragged by our own, not the troops.

The arena is filled with bright objects they took when we were harmless.

When we’re pushed back in our rooms I notice – the sky has gone starless.