We're at our best with wills repressednIt's most clear when our eyes are closednThe patterns in their scarves emergenWe scream out loud, but silence keeps our dirgennFluorescent hell, cast your spellnThe toxins that keep us in linenTwenty and six for the nightnWeakly we whine, numbness our birthrightnnMy head swims, no one winsnThe traitors who fight for the cleannThey only show up at the wrecksnBenzopyrene keeps our code in checknnWe chant our rhymes, we rant at timenWith lungs marred by years of abusenAluminum pills down the chutenThey found our use, purpose built and mutennThe strophic form, of children tornnRepeats till an ending is nearn The grip then relaxes to findnA tighter hold, fear chokes all of our kindnn