Sing Sing Sing

We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web. We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read; and to the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair, we must stare, we must stare, we must stare.

We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell, set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell; and to the ear of every anarchist who sleeps but never dreams, we must sing, we must sing, we must sing.

And it'll go like this:

While my mother waters plants
My father loads his gun
He says death will give us back to God
Just like the setting sun
Is returned to the lonesome ocean

We must blend into the choir, sing in static with the whole. We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul; and from this endless race for property and privilege to be won, we must run, we must run, we must run!

We must hold up in the bunker where the dying soldier laughs. We must stare into a crystal ball and only see the past; and to the caverns of tomorrow with just our flashlights and our love, we must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge!

And then we'll get down there - you know, way down in the very bottom - and we'll see it. Oh my God, we'll see it, we'll see it!

Oh! My morning's coming back. The whole world's waking up. All the city buses swimming past. I'm happy - just because I found out I am really no one.

Conor Mullen Oberst