So, stood upon the walshon road
The white stained facade clean and cold
Stands the voice of a lone protest.
He stands with ensign, flashed his crest
With colors of blue, gold and white.
He stands—paralyzed dreamer in the night.
Right is his goodly righteous cause
To save the Earth and keep strong laws
To bring the golden age of straw
Conjured in his bright, widowed mind.
He spends his time upon the brind
Of oceans and seas of strong words.
Those he speaks are the limpid lures
Wherewith he will strongly bait hawks
Whom he wishes to make to doves.
The message rather grinds a gear
Hunkering both into their fears.
Oh! Strong intellectual, spending all your years
In a dreamlike state, paralyzed
On the bleached white streets with your cheers.
Strong are your slogans, witty, thick
With the hypnotism you pick.
Yet, it is to none effect, love
For the words are like a paralyzed dreamer;
Conscience, they simply do not prick.