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There’s a fine line between yours and mine
the people whose spit you eat, are the ones we spit on
those shiny things that make you feel that you are alive
worthless, soulless, lifeless


Those freedoms of which you speak so loudly
you don’t need them since you don’t use them, only senseless noise
what you would mostly need is a relieving bullet to the head
a permanent remedy, one small dose of lead


See, the wealth of these people, my loved ones,
you cannot buy, cannot kill, cannot steal, or replace
it’s in the heart and it’s in the mind
it’s deep inside and it grows on and on

Bite
the
feeding
hand


You say you can’t
’cause you shouldn’t
‘cause they said so
and they pay well

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