Smells Like Rebel Spirit

Rebellious spirit settled down in me
Inflaming vital organs from the inside
As though somebody's inhaled it into me
With an abandoned power that could bleed white.

I'd say I suffer from infusion
Of rebel virus in my vein
And now I desperately cherish a delusion
That mark from this glows in the sun like oil stain.

Like glowing arouses my restless temper
Which forces me to be against the whole world.
I unexpectedly can hear sort of whisper
That's making me dilute the sweetness with some sault.

Rebellious look that draws attention:
White tee and jeans, distintictive hairstyle
Embodying my hot blood and passion.
Although others may think it all to be a wile.

I'm sauntering around the city,
Such brooding dreamer in a crowd.
I'd   run away without sense of pity
Being muffled up in gauzy shroud.

Feel   endless and abundant freedom
That's spreading over my body.
Is it like déjà vu? I am in kingdom,
They call it childhood and I have lots of things to study.

Guess  kids are all just little rebels,
They disobey  and put their foot down.
And after   all jump out of a cradle
To stand on edge of the profound not looking down.

Profound, abyss, a vicious place;
One step and you're like fallen angel
That makes a flight with terror on the face
Asking himself: “Is that somebody's vengeance?”

That's life brings ud to shaky brink
Like butcher leading victim to the death.
It's easy to give up and simple sink,
Suppose one must reverse the process.

It runs in rebel's fervent blood
To break old principles and laws.
We're ready even to be rolled in mud
Protecting our rights without a cause.

That spirit germinates  in each of us
And I can feel its aura with my skin
As if some warmth gives me a hug; thus
It consumes the whole system like dose of heroin.

It hides inside, behind my ribs –
In circled cage with bone frame –
Like infant sleeping in a wooden crib.
You know I can never be the same.

It hides because of sense of danger:
High wave is trying to push it out.
I am like underwater ranger
Incapable of uttering a piercing shout.

My spirit can be hurt by sun as well
That could just desiccate its brittle cover
Until it turns in dust, then wind would cast a spell:
Blow it away with breath of an impetuous lover.

Being under pressure from without
The rebel   in me beats like rain.
That's obvious, it covets to get out
With such zeal; it has to be restrained.

But how to bridle erupting lava
That's being shot up to the skies.
Maybe one should ignore this and just uncover
One's blustering and stormy nature; it would suffice.

We're rebels resurrected from the past,
The '50s   were a paradise for every teen.
Seems like rebellious era's going to last,
Our timeless idol is forever young James Dean.