I woke up with another sore throat, too much smoking, too much drinking, not enough drinking…
Who
knows maybe it was the rush of escaping the style police. They had been
cracking down on free-thinkers, those that wanted just to be who they
were, shock sticks, brass knuckles they did not care what they used they
just wanted to conform you, make you think like them.
I barely
remember last-night, we had just enough energy to escape, to escape and
look back at the city lights, we had been labeled outcasts! Once labeled
outcasts of Conservatopia it was a life of running, hiding from those
who would force there frame of mind on you…
Damn this throat! I
can barely choke down the whiskey she handed me… but the next one will
be smoother, at least she said it would.
What a woman, stood right
there with me during the roughest part of the night. Even had the guts
to take the style cops neck tie… what a woman!
We stood looking
out over Conservatopia together… angry in knowing we would never return,
at least without going in expecting a fight on our hands. These
conservatives hating just because your art, your mind was different then
there’s…
They took over without a whimper from the public, that is
when they started the out-castings, we survived longer then most but
they either conform you or they make you leave! We will return to
Conservatopia, we will return and make sure every mind is free to think,
feel, live without fear, fear of shock sticks and brass knuckles…we
will return!
Damn whiskey! Just as hard the second
time down as the first, damn whiskey! But what a woman, standing by my
side during the roughest times…