The Fight Is Real

From: Like A Tiny Sparrow Rising From The Ashes

Half of the humans
Are beautiful
Half of the humans
Are horrible
The fight is real
The fight is now
Half of the humans
Will help you
Half of the humans
Will hate you
The fight is real
This fight is now
So how can it be
You ask
Me too
Really how
I’ve no idea
I’ve got nothing
Nothing at all
I can’t make the sense
To explain
Because we all pop out
Of the same looking eggs
Our mothers
Crying and smiling
And out through their legs
Whether they’re
Yellow
Or brown
Or black
Or German
Or Swedish
Or awful
Or not
Out we come
Ready
Or not
To be happy
Or hungry
Or lucky
Or not
And we’re all made the same
To start with
Concoctions of water
Add a dash of carbon
A few parts vodka
Or lager
If you’re English
Ten parts love
Equal parts hate
We’re all made the same
Kind of
We want to survive
We want to achieve
When we start
Half of the humans
Are wonderful
Half of the humans
Want shooting
But none of the humans
Are God
Remember that
Gods are either
Magic we don’t understand
But pretend we do
Or the results of
Excellent marketing
We’re happy to fall for
Well played marketing
You are the real winner
Half of the humans
Are fighting
Already
All over the world
Inside and out
Whether with guns
Or with bombs
Or with words
Or without
And I’m ashamed to say
I’d banish them
I’d vanquish them all
Well, most of them
Into Hell
Which makes me one of the weak
I guess I’d be fighting too
Instead of loving
Which is hard because
Half of the humans…
Etc
The real war is to fix them
That would be strength
But not like Chris Martin
And his awful song
He isn’t fixing shit
With his rubbish
Pop hit
I couldn’t fix them
Or cull them
The idiots
The half of the human race
I so detest
I couldn’t fix them
Or cull them
Or be arsed to even try
The minute I’d slain my first victim
With a bullet
Or a punch
Or some words
It wouldn’t even start
Yet
My war is real
My war is now
My war must end
My peace must start
But how
How can we kill it
When killing is bad
When killing is wrong
When killing me softly
Was only nice in a song
But nowhere else
Than from the lips
Of Aretha
So instead I’ll look deeper
Deeper
For better
For nicer
For the half of the humans
I can learn from
Not the half
I detest
So to life
I look to
For my answers
From being young
I found sounds I fell in love with
Rarely were they voices
And that breaks my heart
A little
But that’s not my war
That’s just a tiny little battle
A squabble
With life
Not hand to hand combat
With death
That I won last year
Yet I’m always prepared
For a rematch
With that crafty villain
The sounds that I fell for
From as early as ten
The sounds of my tyres
Hitting twice on a ramp
That launched me to space
Or at least
Over ten of my friends
While laid on the street
As my bicycle and I
Grew wings
The sound that I loved
When I was 19
And still love it now
As the memories it paints
Are wonderful
A time of being free
Free from my mind
And its own little wars
That would grow
And grow
And grow into more
The sounds of the skateboard
It’s hard tiny wheels
Beating like drums on the pavement
Right up through my knees
I still hear that sound
I still grin when I do
I love her
That sound
I love her
I do
Then there was magic
From the axes of stars
From Matthew
And Thom
And from Mr Nelson of course
He was the one
I believed in the most
When I was young
And impressionable
Foolish
You might say
But I still believed
I still felt hope
He sang of love
And I drowned in it
Young
Impressionable
Foolish
To believe it
The gift of the young
The gift of the happy
The gift of the lucky
Not to have had it
As he had preached
For all of my years
Just tasters
Of nearly
Of not quite
Of a poor Taiwanese plastic imitation
That wasn’t Tai at all
But British
And rubbish
The quality of workmanship
In creating those hearts
That cheated me
Of that real love
Was poor
And thrown together
From cheap
Second rate
Materials
That left me
Drained
From them
The love I had
Wasn’t love
It was
Shit
What am I fighting for
What is this fight
That half of the humans are bullshit
And only half are alright

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