Disease of the Poor

Suicide is a disease that is weeding out the poor.
We’re too stressed out to even think anymore.
No more bills, and no more pain.
This shit needs to end, so that my life can begin.
Everyone argues that suicide is not natural.
Neither is praying on each other, like we’re cannibals.
The entire human race is more primitive than most animals.
Humans aren’t a gift; we are something more dramatically intangible.
How can you use your own brother for gain?
And still expect your brother to remain sane?
There is a thin line drawn between pleasure, and pain.
And sometimes the difference is nothing to your brain.
Our checks are week to week, but we are living day to day.
The only way we know how; The American Way.
Forgive me when I don’t feel any better when I pray.
My faith was whole once, but this system took it away.
Now, I’m sitting here, and I understand that suicide is sane.

Illusion of Freedom

When I snap back to reality, the calamity of life hits me.

Society looks down on me, so I sneer back; that’s strategy.

See, politicians, big wig riches are stealing my wealth from under me.

And they steal from you, and they always succeed. And it goes unnoticed, such a tragedy.

And it’s sad to see all the thieves go free. ‘Cause if you ask me, that’s piracy.

These hopes and dreams that the government feeds only mislead my family.

My wife and kids can’t afford to eat in this ass-backwards economy.

So I get proceeds from greens and ink, but Uncle Sam says that’s a felony.

Just shut your mouth and hope you’ll be free to see the day you got grand babies.

The weight of the world is all on me, but I’m like fuck it that’s just gravity.

I still believe we will all be free, but not until we see things differently.

Democracy itself needs a reprieve because the system is flawed dramatically.