I swig at the beer,

it’s warm and bitter,

there’s an ‘S’ on the sticker

“Stellaaa, oh well, hello my dear!”

I scream from the top of the summit

– my voice drowned by the Orange trumpets.


Boy, come to walk with me

it’s time to change gear

– lets do a show of hands,

so we can see who’s here.


But the winds of change come in Fresh,

like Blue ice without the numbness.

We know there’s a shift in the poles,

can’t you feel it?

It’s November and I’m not even cold.


We’ve forgotten our source,

like a star that’s dead

is nothing but stellar,

and we’ve chosen instead,

to remain in the cellar.


But remember!! Remember!!! We’ve got more to lose than they to win. Remember the power of love fuels us, and that light can scatter shadows but

a shadow can never scatter light!


All we need is…

is Registered Love.

And on November sixth,

We’re going to win this fight!!


And once we’ve done that,

and November rains blue,

Let’s be fearless and bold.

let’s walk the white mans walk,

same like a gliding hawk,

that just doesn’t fear the flock.

So this will happen no more. So that those that lived locked, those that lived ignored, those that survive oppressed, and those that hide from the rest, may find an equal stand, a fighting chance, their pockets newly lined, with Gold back in their court -with interests and all.


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