V1 (24) Oh lord I’m suffering, torn, struggling/ The world’s a gutter with poor plumbing I’m slumming in/ Wars funded by false governments, Whores, guns and when Everyday is more trouble than the one in front of it Some of the luster of living will fade/ Hustling for minimum wage, just to fit into my cage, the injustice is killing my faith/ I used for hope for tomorrow, now I just soak and I wallow in death & debt/ Knowing that my child’ll follow my steps/ How you can I rest with a thousand immense pounds on my chest/ How do I keep a clean conscience with god, when my thoughts are a mess/ I could mop it I guess, and ring it out without honest regret/ And still manage to fall to the faults of the flesh/ And on top of all this, the loss of a friend to an awful event/ Shot in the head – when they could have only robbed him instead/ Homicidal intent for 90 dollars & cents/ By a con sentenced to 20 years but got off within 10/ Why in the fuck we got laws to protect all of us, when/ Parole officicers can send a heartless killer walking again/ keep a cautious defense, as some kids are taught to dissent/ They’re born with no natural remorse, and all form of conscience is dead/ And it’s hard to depend on congresses when/ They impose embargos that leave throngs of small children starved and unfed/ Some have called it the end, the last days of this system and times If that’s the case – it’s a gift for the dying.
V2 (24) I’m not a humanitarian, I’m just a selfish fuck like you – looking for ways outta this grave we’re buried in/ I’m not embarrassed – we ALL carry that pair of chromosomes for carelessness We inherited from our parenting/ But the more I stare at it, The more it becomes glaring… Life isn’t fair is it?/ So why fight what I find impairing? Shit, when the time’s right, then I’ll die without merit/ No hereafter with it, cause my body and my mind are tied to my spirit/ No divine interference, we wonder why history’s cyclical, Why the wicked’ll prosper, all while the timid are miserable/ Why is shit so impossible, while for him it’s so typical/ Why do the gospels point to the times we live in as critical/ Now, I’m getting biblical… aww, fuck it – I’m trying to somehow rationalize/ And I’m tired of being so cynical/ My, what a pitiful state of affairs this is/ When you’re simultaneously ready to die and scared to exist/ A subway ride, that was once second nature, is now taxing your wits/ Asking if this, blast really hits, will a casket be fit? Frazzled to bits, with prescription Paxil and shit/ Trapped in a ditch of a dead-end job, cause you’re two months back on your rent/ Laughing – cause if that shit happens you guess that would be it/ Eyeing every passenger standing, cause that could be him/ So, you sit back and pretend, you’re relaxed and content/ Knowing that if you go today, you unhappily went But when nothing happens you wince, and the impact makes you glad you exist/ Sadness desists and you miss your family, friends/ As you reexamine your presence, the apathy lifts/ Knowing that in the face of death, you found passion to live. There’s an equal amount of life within a last gasp and a first breath. No matter how hard it gets, no one truly prefers death/ And if the hurt ends, you’re sure blessed/ Remember the determination of your first step. And keep walking. Keep walking. Keep Walking.
Rest In Peace Dirty D
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