Don't ask. I have no idea.
The Weight of Protest
My head is full of rocks
Smooth and round like marbles
Children play, marbles collide
Thrown outside in the pouring rain
Outside circles drawn in the dirt
A line drawn in the sand
Crossed ten too many times
And knocked down every one
It’s a strike, the bowler’s dream
Angry faces in picket lines
Angry fists wave angry signs
Angry cops bear blazing guns
I’m petrified
Hard as stone
Rocks are in my head
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