The Poor Country Rooms

U push the pen to recycle the hood,

Deceiving truth as a lie to look good,

Intimidating the poor with the signs of your wealth,

No sympathy for words no sympathy for self,

Hoping one wink the right man pushes the color,

So you can kill again deceiving others,

U revel in the light having the right man’s back,

Sending your hoods to enforce the attack,

Purposely hooking at what the victim does,

Purposely intervening the signs for blood,

Trapped in a living room U see the closet being cleaned out,

Years of hope U can still rock the crowd,

Menaces descending upon the bodies that are left,

Master has done his part to keep you from being kept.