Poverty-stricken urbanity's
a prolific source of unhallowed ignoranace.
The rich get's richer,
and the poor makes babies.
Lotto wisher a rainbow of ghetto's and
trailer park's for the common nigga,
food stamp's blitzer.
The padre sale's god wisdom for tide's
to buy hope.
I call it whimpering, they call it hosannaing
to god.
Or just mybe it is the offspring of religion
prostitution worshiping the dead beat's.
As the political palaver,
steps out and from the million dollar
haberdasher on to the grounds
of unreality's he is refreshed.
Then a truism Red Breast decanted it's
wasted on the head of
the governance pimp.
He touch it and smelled it,
Smell's like nouveau neocon sh*t. |
Submission Name: Rhythm Method Shabby morning Glory
