A silence in the corridors,
A silence in the halls.
Then: whispering masses out of sight,
Out beyond the walls.
A low thrum of humming
Echoes from the lawn,
Ever getting louder:
The battleline is drawn.
The songs are almost deafening now,
The walls begin to crack.
Finally they start to see:
They are not turning back.
Gold-encrusted mannequins
Are shaken and they’re stirred:
Power to the people,
Voices must be heard.
sending...