Mutiny Mutiny

I've heard the stories and I've seen the wringing hands
Out of touch, obsolete, bracing for the collapse
But it's not as dramatic as all of that
A long slow fade out to the last gasp

Don't quit your day job
Don't take the first bus out of here
Empty promises

Feet aching to dance
Voices straining to be heard
A scream in a quiet room

Blood pumping
Like pounding drums
Strumming chords like swinging fists

The need for escape
Is present and real
Souls begging for release

As the last door shuts
And the machines shudder to a halt
We'll be here
We'll remain