Does The Revolution really sound like a whisper?
Or does she cry out, begging for a beginning?
Does she work silently at a desk six floors from the surface level?
Do you think The Revolution locks her doors at night?
Does The Revolution comply with posted parking signs?
Does she put on her high beams, illuminating the dark, slimy streets?
Does The Revolution smoke the reefer and swing in that “the summer’s blowing in” kind of breeze?
Does The Revolution ever walk the shoreline, listening for the ocean?
Do the waves ever give her sage advice?
Does The Revolution have a concealed carry permit?
Or is she armed with her own integrity?
Would it protect her?
Does The Revolution go to the gym and try to get jacked?
Does she ever wear dark sunglasses to hide the rings around her eyes?
Does The Revolution need glasses?
Can she even see right?
Does The Revolution paint her lips bright red?
Does she suck it in to squeeze into a size 4 pants when she’s probably actually a 6?
Is it just to accentuate her ass?
Does The Revolution vote?
Does she think it even matters?
Does she stick with a party?
Or does she party too much?
Does The Revolution run screaming naked in the streets,
exposing her labia to the wary world?
Or does she put on a mask and ravage as a raccoon through the dumpsters?
Does The Revolution sing to herself?
Does she stand centerstage, absorbing all the light to her core?
Or does she dance on the sidelines, swirling her hips and twirling her hair?
Does The Revolution beat to her own drum or is she too busy beating everyone else’s?
Does The Revolution ever hold her babies, rock them, and tell them that everything will all work out?
Does The Revolution watch or look away when they put the needle in her arm?
Does she swallow the pills they give her with water or warm milk, to pretend that they soothe her?
Or does she hide the pills under her tongue and spit them out when no one’s looking?
Does The Revolution ever spend an hour in the mirror trying to stare into her own soul?
Does it work?
Is The Revolution just a figment of her impure imagination?
If The Revolution was standing right in front of you,
would you recognize her?
Would she even recognize herself?