Defiant in despair. Shaking our fists in despair. At what? And why?
How pitiful, our protest. Directed at what, our protest? And who is there to listen to it, our protest? Each other, maybe. But what comfort is that?
Defiant in despair. Shaking our fists in despair. At what? And why?
How pitiful, our protest. Directed at what, our protest? And who is there to listen to it, our protest? Each other, maybe. But what comfort is that?
