My name, it is Reginald,
and I've got a story to tell,
some folks, they will not like it,
they'll cry out, "Go to hell! "
In a hallowed grandstand,
I do quietly sit,
high above the noise
and ruckus of the pit.
Some young people just don't seem to know
that freedom is the only way to go.
With minds addled by tired lies,
and not experience enough to realize
I have an aunt out in Cali,
we used to visit every year,
she had a yoga studio,
and my grandmother used to cheer
The story begins when I was a young man,
personal chirurgeon for Prince Malistare,
when the Kingdom of Blenum faced rebellion
in the west, among the peasants out there.
Oh the woman I loved was unfaithful
I found out that hard truth today,
now when I look at her I feel hateful
since she found another for her play.
My head lolled as I rode through sun-baked land,
too parched to notice the vistas grand,
Southern Nevada had cursed me with thirst,
a kind that most people will never know.
They say they're anti-fascists,
ANTIFA is their chosen name,
that they have to go fight Nazis,
on whom every bad thing they blame.
My quest to walk across the nation,
like vaunted pioneers of old,
started in Maine six months ago,
post vlogs of my progress for folks.
It seems a day cannot go by
without some fit of pique
over a person who spoke out,
who used his right to speak