The sun blares like a trumpet
At every wisp of fanciful will,
But the world melts from the inside
Lights on fire
That mobilize guerrillas from Miami
To fight the brutal scourge of reality
With what should be:
The celebrities we were destined to become,
Who were meant to stroll these streets.
So much we do
For so little reward.
So little we deserve
Our corpulent bounty.
There's a shadow lurking in every mirror,
That says, "You are one, not many
Precisely because you are many, not one."
