Fighting Change and Protecting Routine

What a stable rut we’ve made:

A system that has cleared streets and fed our jails.

A routine that lets the pure prosper and keeps animals in their place.

There’s no way anyone would want to change.

Do I hear a disruption?

Dents in our methods

That come from nothing more than voices painted in different tones?

Today, it’s one mark of damage.

What will happen when more colors learn to flourish?

When we go on patrol,

We’ll have Ireland’s original color with us

Because screams do nothing against badges

Rainbows don’t shine bright enough to melt evasions

No one can catch and throw lead or rubber

And footage can be cut like the signs for a change.

My walls surround me

And brief success fills my lungs.

As I refresh myself in the bathroom,

I come face to face with an old friend.

“Hi, Adolf.”