We are the lost Tribes,
With lost souls,
We are all still roaming this old world.
We are the people, whose gold was stole,
Now we are forced to serve.
So get your TV on or break the console,
Mental slavery,
No whip,
Money is what makes you crack instead of it.
Break it or make it,
No in between,
Numb the feeling,
Fuck it! Drink it up and don’t think about it.
STOP thinking that you can’t overcome,
Can’t get it done,
Can’t move along,
Quit thinking that you’re stuck,
The Media is winning the battle,
So get your armor on,
And get prepared to rumble,
The time has come.
-
Author:
E_Legal_1 (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2016 12:12
- Comment from author about the poem: It has been some time now that we are all starting to feel that we are not free. So many poor people are forced to make decisions eveyday that affects their lives and the lives of their families in order to survive and put a little more on the table. Rich people laugh their way to the bank after they uproot an entire community from their homes, Gentrification. But who is doing the real evil?
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 39
Offline)
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