WARNING SIGNS
Can’t put the genie in the bottle
Or the grapes back on the vine,
We always went full throttle,
Shot up every warning sign.
Then like that the melee ended
Put our guns back in our belts,
All the people we offended,
It’s the best we ever felt.
I’m growing green with envy
At the blackness of your pride,
Turning red whenever we
Feel the fire burn inside.
They shove us in a cell,
I guess of our own making,
You say fine and what the hell,
Just bars here for the taking.
He straps us down, that corrections clown,
And flips a bunch of switches.
One last thought as the lights go down,
This needle really itches.
