Maybe She Should Be Quarantined

I've seen her Blood burning up the moon
 lighting a fire under deceptively useless things
 "close your eyes shut up" she says
 "now is no longer a failing regime"
 But future leaks green in her eyes
 Sacrificing ideas to make her artwork last
 Gliding between passion and submission
 She says there's no hope for iconoclasts
 Art can no longer satisfy soul hunger
 Art is now for cash
 She's still beautiful to me
 reflecting what she doesn't soak in
 like algae or zoo plankton
 she's feeling passion when
 she hopes she's just what she should be
 and somewhere out there is a bigger hand
 that says she believes
 She's beautiful and she's clean
 maybe she should be quarantined
 or can she swing from the corporate tree
 can she swing for-
 Maybe I don't want to lose her to this mechanical reflex world
 and what she hasn't done isn't done
 this may seem selfish and I know it is absurd
 but nothing grows in corporate gardens I'm sure
 I'm no martyr for security
 maybe just a sideshow then
 that relieves the pitch and waits for the dawn
 or gives in as idealism's victim
 and somewhere out there is a bigger hand
 that says he believes
 She's beautiful and she's clean
 maybe she should be quarantined
 or can she swing from the corporate being
 can she swing for me?