She's been listening to the epiphany
what the people say is substance
Some say she's derogatory
She's the only one with resistance

Their preach stalks us in the cities
You're looking up at the speakers
All of the words are repeating
Even if you never let them hear us

That face of yours is too fictitious
You're tied up in some puppet strings
None of the rhythms belong to us
They belong to greater things

Nothing ever was so mechanical
As the famous people we're made to love
No genuine is tyrannical
Why should creativity be stopped?

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