This Ain't Right

This Ain't Right

You own voices   in your head,

but who owns   your dreams, 

     forces them   into the hole,

     or into these   fields, 

threatens to take   your families.

Worse, who owns   you, dreamers? 

     Mobsters who've   taken power

from you. They seem   like an abbé,

an advisor, but what   if they flatter

like a sophist, worse,   insinuate 

their self into privy   dreams, 

steer you to do that   what 

would have been   unthinkable. 

     What if they're   a spy.

     What if they're   Iago?

[lyric]