Call me a cynic when I don’t drink the water
which you have laced with acid to open my mind.
Call me a sceptic because I don’t believe
in the pie in your sky or the gold in your mine.
Call me so bitter because I’ve been bitten
and I don’t like the look of your teeth
Call me killjoy for kicking at the rotten foundation
and finding the roaches beneath.
No, I’m no fun no good time party girl
because I won’t go out riding with you
And I’m disloyal, dishonest and unpatriotic
for not automatically siding with you.
Yes – call me a cynic when I don’t panic and run
when it’s fear and submission you want.
I won’t come when I am called to your firing squad wall.
I won’t sleep in the houses you haunt.
I’m a cynic.