A/N: I'm fed up with a lot of people, including myself. R&R me, I'll R&R you. Keep writing.



You've got the wool pulled over your eyes,

but it's the weightless kind; you don't know you're blind.

You don't know you're unproductive,

you don't know you're not alright.

You don't know you're the reason

I stay awake at night.

So you'll drink some more,

you'll smoke some more,

you'll play all these dangerous games some more...

What do you have to do all that for?

It makes you feel happy,

it makes you feel good.

It's the seven sins combined,

and it's rocking your world.

But there's always the morning-after,

and the pills aren't a guarantee.

There are always so many consequences,

the aftermath of the hurricanes you unknowingly set free.

You prefer to hide in the eye of the storm,

so inebriated you can't witness what goes on,

and sometimes it feels like nothing happened at all.

But you were there, you know you were there.

You don't remember, I'm the hand that was holding your hair.

Hasn't anyone ever told you, there's enough danger in this world,

and to one person you're the person who makes this place good?

What right do you have to make yourself high,

and leave the peasantry to clean up the mess you leave behind?

What right do you have to get yourself drunk,

and shatter the dreams of the people you love the most?

Yea, we'd all like to get off this planet,

get lost in our heads and leave ourselves behind.

But there are bigger things out there than ourselves, my friend,

and my inner instincts are saying it's time to lend your own hand.

You create your own storms, the tornadoes sweep you away.

I'm not saying your problems are entirely your fault,

you didn't create the wounds but you poured on the salt.

And however much it hurts right now, there's someone out there hurting ten times more.

There's someone out there who can't sleep somewhere besides the floor.

There are children in Darfur, there are soldiers in Iraq,

there are hate-crimes in the city that put you under attack.

There are women on welfare, there are husbands who get beatings,

there are children out there who don't know when they're eating.

I hope you never give away last season's clothes,

I hope you keep that I-Pod blasting loud,

so that everyone can hear what wealth is all about.

Keep blowing your money on the booze, on the drugs.

Never give a dollar to show the less-fortunate some love.

Keep your head in your high-school drama,

complain about Hurricanes Mother and Father.

And always use plastic bags at the supermarket,

never attempt to help save the planet.

Glue your cell-phones to your ears, don't miss a word of Britney Spears.

Let the tabloids print her face on the cover, instead of warning us about genocide in Darfur.

Don't take a chance, or start an organization-

the population-majority might not like it.

Keep your thoughts inside your head, unless they're pre-approved by your friends.

After all, America is the home of the free and the brave-

but not until the future steps up to the plate.