To be free in the empire of entrepreneurs and authorities.

To be lucid between the airwaves and sedatives.

To trust yourself under the tyranny of consensus reality.

To be sensitive living in earshot of the sweatshops, the stadiums, the slaughterhouses.

With the scent of blood cheap in the air.

To dream of beauty with the stars plucked from the sky.

The angels caged and the heroes demonized.

To sing through throats stuffed with the cotten of inhibition.

To write of grace with callused hands and bloody faces:

To dare to scream, and even cry, proudly, bevor the jeering eyes

Of the judges, the executioner, and the crowd.

To lie, cheat, steal, and betray as much as necessary

To be honest,

To tell the truth.

To be fearless: to move and follow the movement

Even into death, to live to burn up in the wreckage.

To give everything: To kiss without apprehension, shame, or restraint,

To make love in the city of hate.

And yes, to be alive,

Alive in the land of the dead.