I would be the first
Proudly ejected from my desk, with a right hand hovering firmly over my undeveloped left breast
To recite the indoctrinated love for the greatest mirage of an accepted state in the Western hemisphere
It was not until my father's army cries of trauma were disregarded
Because he did not bleed red, white, and
Blue on the battle field
That gravity began taking over my heavy hand
My pockets filled with stone and
My beating heart developed into a sack of realization
That lives lost were not lives that mattered
If those lives were not American

"From the tip of my tongue a New World, in the palm of my hand it sits,"

"...and the fruits are found in my pocket, as I consume ever-more of it!"

"I am the conservative Republican; I am the progressive Liber-al,"

"For I am both sides of his will -man’s mind the master of it all!"

Seeping up out of the ground,
Into my ***** pipe…
Seeping, seeping, not lost, nor found.
The Earth, as plucked, is ripe.
For oil is my blackness-lust,
And verily; my tune...
For I will rend this world to dust,
To keep my Silver-Spoon.

America is bleeding,
her streets are running red.
They're running out of places
to pile up all the dead.
Uncle Sam is smoking,
pockets fat with oil and gas;
when will Lady Liberty
hold that flame under his ***?

America is bleeding,
a badge stuck in her chest,
can't defend a head wound
behind a kevlar vest.
And Justice wears a blindfold,
but it works kinda funny.
She can see right through it
if you have the money.

America is bleeding,
and now her children see
right on through the smokescreens
into her hypocrisy.
While high atop the flagpole
Old Glory's Stars stained red.
If we don't stop the bleeding,
We're gonna end up dead.

Today another human
was buried in the dirt,
and other humans gathered round,
and cried because it hurt.
And nothing in the time that he
had spent upon this earth,
could, in those tear-filled mourners' eyes,
diminish that man's worth.

No label he had ever worn
could sway their human hearts.
With no conditions, they loved him,
the sum of all his parts.
Now under six cold feet of ground,
he lies before his time.
And other humans wonder if
the sentence fit the crime.

Another human was his mom,
another was his dad.
Some others still had been his friends
since he was just a lad.
They had laughed and cried with him,
been true through thick and thin.
Now they've thrown handfuls on the box
they buried the man in.

Now the streets are burning-
other humans, filled with rage,
lash out at OTHER humans,
with the city as their stage.
Man and woman, boy and girl,
bear witness what you're seeing-
the aftermath of the wrongful death
of another human being.

A cannibal of currency
You’re not yourself anymore.
Became your purse long ago,
Sense of self tied to coins
Of which you’ve never held.

Little man, little man,
where is your home?
The house on this hill
Just an empty shell
Painted like so much canvas.

There for the eyes of your peers
But your peers aren’t your friends
And your friends aren’t around
Tell me please, where did they go?

Little man, little man,
Do you hear the sound?
No one is calling your name
Where did they go
And where are they now
And why aren’t your friends in their homes?
Little man, little man
Do you hear the sound?
They’re making it plain as day.

You ate their income
Ate them of their house and their home.
A cannibal for currency-
Consumed all your friends,
Fat little pig on the hill.

Little man, little man
(You) can no longer ignore the sounds
Of ten thousand mouths
All hungry for you.

You ate their money
But you couldn’t stomach
The pure human spirit inside.
Now they have crawled back,
Out from the ghettos,
Starving and hungry for you.

Forced to eat each other,
You’ve all but raised cannibals,
But this time of flesh and of blood.
Little pig, little pig,
Can you hear the sound,
Or have you become deaf
To your own cries as well?

No one will miss you
You don’t have a home
Your friends became food
A long time ago.

(Die Geld von die Leute Sie Essen gekauft
Sie isst ihr Geld,
Mehr jeden Tag,
Kein Geld fur Essen
Sie isst Sich,
Jagd nach dem Hunger,
Fett kleiner Mann,
Jetzt der Jaeger ist Essen fur jeden Mund
Kleinen Schwein, Kleinen Schwein
Konnen Sie den ton horen?)*

Greasy lip smacks
Sound like ten thousand claps,
The only applause that you’ll ever hear.

I hope when we crown our court jester, to be the king of this wretched land

That he sets fire to everything standing, poisons every river

For we will have deserved it, for our years of hate and ignorance

I'm aware of the madness,
Yet refrain from speaking of it
In the public arena,
Because these chains are invisible.
You can see our scars.
Look around, play I-Spy,
Can we spot the wounds
From invisible bondages?