the activist takes me back to march 15, 2003
iraq is coming and thousands have gathered in washington
around that enormous phallic monument

saddam has weapons
not the typical sticks and stones that break bones
but weapons of mass destruction
shits gonna 'splod
and i, in all my infinite wisdom, have gone to washington
left my home in philly
for the big scoop

camera in hand i intend to capture the moment
a moment in history
a monumental moment when the people rise up and say
"no george! bad boy!
now go to your room and think about what youve done"

i see hundreds of kids... wannabe rebels with multicolored bandanas on their faces, destruction in their hearts, and dismantled brooms in their hands.
they stand on flags
they scream at cops

tattoos and rebellion go hand in hand
dismantling that establishment
for we need "more world and less bank" they say

they run and jump, they hoot and they holler
"the mans gonna get it this time" they think

i follow, camera in hand, as they run through the casual protestors
with signs that say "i miss sex in the white house"

these self proclaimed anarchists approach a nondescript white building
they all look the same, these buildings
they reach the door, its open and they enter

thirty or so masked faces, screaming, creaming,
at the thought of more world
and less bank

i follow, try to disappear, act as if im not there
to get the big scoop

thirty seconds of screaming
a few tables knocked over
and a broken window

and not an activist in sight
but i stand my ground with my associate
press passes in hand
and the thought that we were alone in capturing this moment
triumph

from around the corner a man of mythic proportions
a goliath of body armor and assault weapons
wielding a grenade launcher and donning a S.W.A.T uniform
handlebar mustachio
he grabs my arm and away we go

"HOW LONG HAVE BEEN WITH THIS GROUP?" he screams at me at the end of dark hallway
im fucked and i know it
"where are we?" i ask
"dont play with me" he says
im still fucked
"im serious. im just here to take pictures"

i am standing in the world bank headquarters
belittled by a man with the power to decimate me

more cops show up
uniformed, plainclothes
push me around, spit on me, and reassure me that i am, indeed, fucked

im cuffed with several others
they take my shoelaces so that i cant hang myself
though they assure me that if i really want to
i can hang myself with my shirt

they take my hairtie and my long hair hangs as it never does
and i am escorted with several others
perp walked as they call it

cameras are flashing
cnn is there
fox news is there
and i am there

an anarchist on display
"we got one" they think
but they dont got nothin
but heads have got to roll

and my head rolled and rolled and rolled
through tv stations, radio waves,
and through the invisible caverns of the intraweb

the anarchist online hub was ablaze
with songs of victory they declared
we have been heard and we will not go quietly
we will rescue our brothers from the arm of the law
for their sacrifice was great

idiots... every single one of them