Facade
Dylan Johnston

I have no eyes for what I seek isn’t plain
I have no body for what I try is in vain
The blood is poured from street to street
Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, till the last cloth met
Fed propaganda since we were brought up on our feet
Buildings and farms, grass to the sky
I’ve fought to be free till the day I die
Cries of failure that end in a picture’s memory
When a judge stops a king it seems a small victory
To fight tyranny, questions I’ve asked
To each relative and friend, but that moment’s passed
Perhaps such goals are done through battle
But can I slaughter people who breathe the air I savor?
Is the sacrifice of disagreeing voices worth a people’s savior?