1. 1

    Bombs Over Providence - A Vision After The Sermon: Jacob Wrestling With The Junior Boys Soccer Team

  2. 2

    Bombs Over Providence - All The Good Guys Are Dead, And I'm Twisting My Moustache

  3. 3

    Bombs Over Providence - And The Award For Best Post-Coital Hug Goes To...

  4. 4

    Bombs Over Providence - Anybody Remember John Enis, Chair Of The Board Of Tourism For Bad Sex, Ont.?

  5. 5

    Bombs Over Providence - Black Friar's Union Of Thursday Night Anarchists

  6. 6

    Bombs Over Providence - Broken Records

  7. 7

    Bombs Over Providence - Bury My Eyes At 1510 King St. W.

  8. 8

    Bombs Over Providence - Class Aptitude Test Results Are In, And It's Martyr Or Matador For Everybody!

  9. 9

    Bombs Over Providence - Cobra Constant Committee Bake Sale

  10. 10

    Bombs Over Providence - Dig Them Up And Try To Reason With Them

  11. 11

    Bombs Over Providence - I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass

  12. 12

    Bombs Over Providence - May Cruise Missile Diplomacy Keep Us Truthful, Good, And Mild

  13. 13

    Bombs Over Providence - Pink Slip + 1:30% Resistance To Your Daughter's New Pony

  14. 14

    Bombs Over Providence - The 18th Brumaire Of Boomer Ellsworth

  15. 15

    Bombs Over Providence - The Grand Preamble (Annie Get Your Gun, Mask, Ductape And Some Matches)

  16. 16

    Bombs Over Providence - The Starving Artist Weight-Loss Program Works... To Varying Degree... Somethetimes

  17. 17

    Bombs Over Providence - Walkerton, Workfare, And The Wusses Who Watched

  18. 18

    Bombs Over Providence - What I Destroyed On My Summer Vacation

  19. 19

    Bombs Over Providence - You're Either With Us Or You're With The Satirists

  20. 20

    Bombs Over Providence - Zombie Cheerleader Slumber Party Massacre

I've Got Your Revolution Right Here, Wise Ass

Bombs Over Providence

Here we are; another school night proclamation of the greater good.
And what's more, I've the gall to curse and moan about the state of my upset.
Calling all those who'd hate to grow up.
When we're left to our own devices recalling all our youthful ideals
without any means to enact a change.
When all we are is what we've been taught;
a curt reflection of what we've bought until we present another way.
No!
We can be more, I swear.
This could be more than 100 bodies silent.
I can't and I won't suggest I'm wasting too much time.
We don't have to meet but we want to.
We don't have to gather but we long to.
We don't sing but we ought to.
We don't have to speak but we need to.
We don't gotta fight but we're going to.
We don't scream but we ache to.
There's more to this than just sound.
Think about what you've heard on your way back home.
The screams, the chants and the romance, that can't exist without noble intent.
I'm so naive.
I'm so naive still.
Don't feel bad if I don't win everything we sang along to in our greater moments.
We're much stronger than the world would have us be.
I'm so naive to suggest there's more to this than us.

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