hands run over piano keys tapping on the ivory silk
melodies sneak into the evening air tickling the skirt of the moon
car alarms hum as they wave to passing truckers
and stray cats tip toe toward any meal they can find
the night is young and immature
rushing its way to morning
scolded by the sunlight
we rise and fall to the gunfire of revolution
fireworks moan success
while gold stars adorn chests of broken hearts
limbs are locked in positions that feel best
and the spirit leaks out in each breath
this is the gunfire of revolution
a change is gonna come
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