A Cross In A Box Of Lies Poem by Mark Heathcote

There's a movement on the pavement on the street.
Oh, you're just another number, a collection of regrets.
Thinking you are worth more than another bad cause.
You might as well be dead in some passing hurst.
Put your head in a bottle.
Because now your bubble has burst.
How can anything get much worse?

So think? Who can you trust,
Who are you going to vote for,
Who are you going to re-elect,
Trust me and vote with your feet.
Before you're trampled beneath another non-transitional government, pretending to be your perfect Valentine, lover
oh, what a bleeding heart!

The fabrication of love
always starts with a cross in a box of lies.
Oh, open your eyes.
And don't be a part of that?
You are worth much more than that.
'Don't you know? '

Heart and soul - address the unknown with no one to blame. Know that you are home and living without regret because you voted for yourself and no one else. So vote.
Vote with your feet and live your life.
No fabrication, and please don't get broken;
just get mad, and if you must burst, give them all hell.
It'll make you so much stronger. Believe me.
They'll too feel the ground swell.