Nobody is Coming to Save You

History is not kind.

It is the struggle of one class against another.

No room in history for beggars and criers.

Voters and moaners.

If you are not prepared to bare steel

And aim and fire

To claim what is yours by rights

Forget it.

You have no rights, fool.

None save those secured by your own two hands

Around a judge’s throat.

You have nothing save what was won

By others’ spilt blood.

Civilize the mind where the people are concerned.

Make savage your heart and body in preparation for your enemies.

What do you want? You want all?

What do you have? Nothing?

How can you lobby with nothing?

How can you speak with no tongue?

Why should the weak appeal to the strong?

The job of the weak is to become strong.

Nobody is coming to save you.

There is no real altruism or love except among your class.

Books are books. They offer maps but you must follow.

Che is locked in the ground, Mao and Lenin are plastic statues. Their words help.

Were they here they’d laugh at this weakness.

Mao saw his wife beheaded, yet you are triggered by the sight of a gun.

Lenin was shot, yet here you are unable to talk to people.

The Soviet Union lives only in memory, gone.

Will you build anew or die with ghosts before your crying eyes?

Will you make history or be crushed beneath the wheel?

Nobody is coming to save us. We save ourselves.