Change

There shall be no change
In these lines,
In open mic rhymes,
In comfort that hides,
In freedom that lies,
In cool compromise.

There shall be no change.
It shall be no surprise.

A cynical age
A critical stage
A lost generation
A meaningless rage

There shall be no change
In this passionate page.
All the world’s not a stage.
All the world’s not a stage.

No.

It is passion, but pain;
It is often mundane;
It is struggle for gain;
It is trying in vain,
Then trying
And trying
And trying again.

It’s the youth on the street in ’76.
It’s the how why and when –
The questions that kick
For equality, freedom –
The answers that stick.

So today is the future of our history,
And what shall we say? Where,
Where were we?

Were we sleeping,
Or dancing,
Or watching TV?
While we wore noble wristbands,
With self-absorbed glee?

There shall be no change
In this passionate page.
All the world’s not a stage.
All the world’s not a stage.

There shall be no change
For this age
At this stage,
Unless there is change
Unless
There is change
In you and me.