The oppressive class
Think that their power will always last
And they’re always doing it for a reason 
Til their punishment is open season 
And the subordinates get even
With people they don’t want to be believing 
And you could say that kindness kills
And good intentions and foreign wills
Mask the wound as the blood spills 
Out onto my shirt
It may have hurt
When they struck me down
But I’m not giving up on this down 
And it is for my own health
They say they must steal my wealth 
From me 
But there is something that will always be free
In the green, green grass of home 
There is something that you have never known 
As you paint a beach of waifs 
But I am not trying to escape 
The cup that’s been handed to me
I’m just trying to reflect the free
In the prism that casts it’s hues
And he people who pay their dues 
In the mindfulness class
It is not part of the past
But of the Now
And I know you will realise somehow 
What I’ve been trying to express
In my state of undress 
As I spell it out in monotones
What I couldn’t hide from iPhones
As they responded to my touch
And scared away what I loved so much 
Into the fold of open season
Have you ever loved someone without reason?