franchise

The same old fucking song
the same old hunting horns
The same tame legitimising mockery

It's not enough and if we can't imagine what could be
Then we deserve even less for selling short the magic and joy
Selling short our history and the future
Like so much expendable stock

The same old market
The same old dreams
The same bitter resigned sniping

Where's the bravery, where's the heart?
The grace, the passion, the art?
We've got it all amongst us, moving, electric with possibility
All we need to do is join the dots to escape the plague of pinstripe murder mimicry
We're part of this now let's turn it inside out

These same old barriers
This same old guard
That self same smug cynicism
Fuck it
We're all artists, creators, people of the craft
So let's set pace, redefine our hope of sense and our tense of place
So we trust the inner shining voice
And we talk the future, in it's lightest trace

The same old beauty
The same old love
The same unbeatable , indefatigable, humble human spirit.