Folklore

I've been involved with these revolts before.
At first, a revolution's in the air,
But soon enough nobody seems to care
About injustice, or the costs of war;
It's all about hate now, and keeping score,
And who's been pushing whose friend down the stair.
At first, truth moved us, knowing what was fair
Or unfair moved us. Now it's just folklore.

By now, a halfwit could anticipate
The death of comity in rival cliques.
You laugh whenever anybody speaks
Unless your back's been scratched. You overstate
How much has been done, cutting off debate.
You'll all be finished soon. I'd say three weeks.