Crushed again

Here I am, just a man, another pawn in the plan, another self-righteous American. A piece of the truth, a piece of the prism, a cog in the system that's oiled by the blood of its victims. Walking shameless, blameless on a treadmill, life at a standstill. Manufactured mechanical miracles praised by American consumer culture spirituals Ð I love this car, I love this brand, I love this show, and I love this land. Praise be to money for this land of milk and honey and providing us with banks where we deposit our thanks. I am just a man no more than another 9 to 5 whore fucked raw, brain sore from relentless penetration of monotonous profit motivation. I try to resist but my mind has been converted ever since I murdered my last wish. The depression is so thick, you can cut it like a razor slitting a wrist. Dreams stifled, crushed. Mortar and pestled into fine dust, separated into short thin lines, then inhaled into one track minds. Designer drugs for designers of the time, captains of industry giddy from potential undermined.

Time and time again hopes get crushed again

Souls shattered in the wake of ties torn be the aftermath of lies born. Some rise on, with a cry that could vocalize dawn after the most tragic night in man's long, history of unearthing mysteries in times gone. Life born in the struggle context is complex and you can see it in the eyes of the usual suspects who make treks into lands measured in grams and return as half measures of man with dirty hands, sticky from the blood that be the currency of the land. My blood, your blood, young blood be the sacrifice that keeps American gods nice, laced in African platinum and African ice and in order to get it they sacrifice African life. Thug ass police play the part of the priest, the ceremony's the beat down and the altar's the streets and the blood flows down the gutter to the belly of the beast. A pantheon of gods greedy beyond belief feast on it

Time and time again hopes get crushed again

a soul broken open face down tastes the gutter, mouth sticky from the blood that hugged the prayer that he uttered - God make it so my mother understands that I loved her - echoed with the blood that flooded down the drain. Another man that took a bullet to counter the pain. Another man that dealt himself out of life's game cause the flame from the pain is so intense it fries the brain but the song that the bullet sings brings cool relief from the strain. Its hard when the data concludes you don't matter and you see you're nothing more than another poor actor drowning in a large bootleg can of laughter, hoping like hell that there's no heaven or hell. Please expell my name from the book of life, please rewrite the script so its like i didn't exist. cross my sins of the list pinned to the scroll that God held when his only son got nailed cause i failed.