Woorden: Final Fight. Rage.

Friday night, this is the party night!
Such the perfect night, to stay separated from our minds
Ten yards away is the drunken clamor, of pacified suburbanites
(Bottles clanking, fives slapping, senses numbing)
Josh is above the disconnect, and privilege that plague our times
That plague our times
Raise your flag to the wolves
A fire in celebration to him and in rage
For all the people swallowed whole and ignored
Tagged "scary" by precious daddy's girls
Left in fields to crack in the sun
Like a wolf of neglect, seek comfort within your den