448400
16
if Peter was a rock then I'm
one of the nails in the cross
if John told the truth then
somebodies lying
I came into this rusty world
lost and I was crying
corpses in the attic
hiding in the basement from
combative heroin addicts
change the channel
too much statistic static
not to mention media attention
break the antennas
burned spoons and secret sounds
coming from bedrooms of doom
10 spaces down below
hells underground bungalow
in a state of conflicted antagonistic
violent outbreaks and riots
savagery, cruelty and brutish
combative police brutality
bloodshed clothes red
taking shoes off of the dead
isolated and separated
segregated like the great divide
marginalized, and ghettoized
knocked back down, why?
because we always rise up
and stand our ground, why?
because we know that
there is no help for us
nowhere around
believing that our betterment
was in our melanin government
sore and disappointed
in need of big mommas ointment
a chokehold is nothing but a lynching
without a tree and a rope
we're too outspoken that's why they
always go for the throat
in a moment of silence
our spirits never rest
like this war will never rest
the more we think
the Moorish we become
in the battle we have already won
behind the eye is the sun
