It could have been just like life should be but it ended being just another teenage fever. White, male, straight, elitist, sexist, cis, capitalist. A spectacle of raised fists, empty words and carbon copies. So, when you called me a pariah, you could not be more correct. It is a fact: I do not belong, I am out of step with it. But Phill, my friend, you can be sure that it is true to me what you once told me and on my chest I will always carry: a protest song is a song that is so specific that you cannot mistake it for bull shit.