Original Spies

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Karate

Karate (空手?) ( /kəˈrɑːtiː/; Japanese pronunciation: [kaɽate] ( listen)) is a martial art developed in the Ryukyu Islands in what is now Okinawa, Japan. It was developed partially from indigenous fighting methods called te (手?, literally "hand"; Tii in Okinawan) and from Chinese kenpō. Karate is a striking art using punching, kicking, knee and elbow strikes, and open-handed techniques such as knife-hands. In some styles, grappling, locks, restraints, throws, and vital point strikes are taught. A karate practitioner is called a karateka (空手家?). There are several different styles of karate, most of them stemming from the same genealogical tree, and some others acquiring the name "karate" for practical reasons while actually deriving from a mix of other martial a… more »

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A stand, a wall, a fiat in us all, 
Something that will take away this nonsense 
Soon, one of these days. 
The demand, the call, it will come soon I can hear 
Us all talking one day about the ones that we love,
Instead of hanging around waiting for signs from above.
Hey, I too want change.
I'm not talking about one day about the ones we love,
Instead of hanging around waiting for signs from above.
Hey. I too want change. I'm not talking about faith;
I will pay for evidence of the numbness and pain 
Of anyone with guns, the money or the planes.
I hear you saying I am just one kid,

That we can't do what one thousand 
Once did, but let me leave you with this simple idea,
And maybe one of you might run with it for real. 
On that day will we be original spies?

Through dusty Lucite will the sun still rise? 
Will strange new days, striated with strain contain 
Your relocated slang and those incredible eyes?
Truant treasures come from zealots sounding, Jensens pounding. 

By way of last year's sonic stencils, we are working it out, 
If only with pencils. 
But underneath the same skies as those ones pushing the same lies. 
So grab a pen, turn of the CNN, and scratch me out some plans 

To get together again. 
In that way will we be original spies? 
With trusty foresight will the sun still rise? 
Will strained new days, saturated with strange contain 

Your relocated slang and those incredible eyes?

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