Fists Up in the Air with Market

imaginary blue prints and whispers
becoming realer than true stories
yet slow like Indonesia's development
piling up like trash in center earth
the song plays fast and furiously
so loud i can hear it in my sleep
dreams of meeting the mountain fish
dwelling under bridges and rocks
beneath high heels and train tracks
shaking hands until i drop like candidates
counting without numbers to lose
just scores of the winning team
and letters can't combine to make history
hunting down my hero of freedom
and seeing fists up in the air with market