195900
Being on the side of good is a tired road. Stand up for your culture was never a battle but the world made it one.
We are all holding on to something and in that darkness, it would make a h*ll of a lot of sense if it was to each other.
How could you look a sister in the eye, watch her cry, spit in her face and call her b*tch. Words do just as much damage as a punch and the urban poet knows this.
He speaks life with the words of death slowly walking behind him. Waiting for the moment to take control if only for that split second.
How could you raise arms against your brother, watch his blood burn and his mothers tears and all for a belief that was never your own.
We are kings and queens and we die for more than things, we die for an idea -- of something that will last longer than we ever will.
We are tired but we must walk the road still. Into oblivion.
