The sign reads in bitter hate and I want to paint it black; crosses burning on the grass, a misaligned feeling of what Jesus would do, a corruption of the thought of love and good will towards man.

The soliders did not die for false patriotism, idiots waving a flag in mock feeling of nationalism as plotted by a false leader developed by a TV that preaches what the masses thinks in vision of “reality”.

A sickness develops, starting at the weakest link, our minds.

Look a shiny, do not pay attention to that man behind the curtain, look, unpatriotic dudes defile our precious flag.



Do not pay attention to unjust wars, cogs in the wheel, turning over and over, ground into dust, The Dream turned into a nightmare as we sleep.

That rain that is falling, is it not piss? Vomit?

We dance in it as our Masters tell us it is rain and laugh.

Job reports saying work is great! Cannot raise the wage up a dime cause the Masters will have to raise the rent to a $1.95!

Race? Nothing to see here, look, it’s raining once again.

Ain’t no inequality, even that poor white boy is getting raped.

Don’t you feel great?

The system is fixed, the poor get poorer, but we smile just the same, as the rich get richer off the backs of us poorer.

We keep working, grinding, finding ourselves falling further behind.

We keep getting told the same fucking lies that our parents got told, we never learn, to pull our heads from out of the sand, we never see the harvester come till it’s too late.

Even when we die, we cannot afford the rent.

Too damn high, and the pay check aint enough, but who cares, the talking heads say it’s going to be alright or maybe not, matters which head is talking on the magic box, TV.

The wolves love it when the sheep, us, are divided, killing each other, fear in our eyes over the color of another’s skin.

White, black, yellow, green, we all bleed red; war on the streets makes the Masters’ glee, we are just puppets, meeting their needs….


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