If we all knew how to buck the system,
wouldn't we?
And we know how to buck it,
in front of us,
on top of us,
firing up the wire,
flickering so fast cats can't see it.
Blue gate,
blue gate,
not the entrance.
Those who buck,
buck downwards.
The one thing we all know.
Swallowing the kernel down with tuna melts,
or a wedge of Boar's Head.
Chewing a deli lunch, somewhere.
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