The bindings rot
given the inevitable time
no matter the message
it has to be preserved by those who believe in it
it has to be true to our nature
HOPE
passed on through gristled between tooth snarl
spitting fury, or sentimental plight
History rhymes with future
Progress beatboxes with this electric sky
not helicopters delivering missles to city
not machine guns strapped to children
The new winds come with a full pallet of color
The new smiles are real, innocent, ambitious
I believe in the kids of tomorrow.
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