Today's the day.  Click "Start", then click "Shut Down",
then order twenty pizzas on their dime,
then (slice in hand) break down this office door
and flip the Chairman's picture one last time.
Then tearing off your clothes, run down the hill,
dig through the woods, bathe naked in the stream,
and when you feel your stress is washed away,
stand up, and facing heaven, scream your scream
against the things that stopped you being free;
then run and ink your body red and blue
just as you wanted; go and get it pierced
in twenty places (seven out of view);
then go and buy yourself a megaphone
and drive down Main Street naked on a truck
proclaiming to the people that the night
has gone, and since they will not give a fuck,
go round and tell them all your propaganda
and whisper of the falling of the State:
yet... you're still here?  a cubicle entombs you?
These joyless four grey walls you claim to hate?