reupholstered groove

 
They simply throw blame on a hero
Giving glory to the false scapegoat
A measure punch to the inner eye
Revolution sung on pinched throat,

Then hankered key to feeling blues
As to unlock this hidden idea case
Seeming to tune these center hues
But looping thoughts win the race,

When they climb atop the tall tower
Slinging emotional excess to check
With their influx of spiritual powers
Such a pissed off-balanced intellect,

Now ending the masterstroke strung
Their syntactic sugar rush has come,

T'was yesterday they swallowed sunlight
Before it dawned, burned the tongue right...