when the TV feeds your child always on hate and lies
with a veiw that might only actually epitimize
your own life and times and what for
to buy just one more line 'round before you die

Like a drone with a bad stagger you swagger
right to your knees into a stagnant pool
you soil the tip of your own dirty white silk tie

you long to lie so you can with a frown
wrythe and drown and purge your mind
and burst your lungs you reemerge
with a life full of rehydrated thoughts and style

You regurgitate this sticky love hate
as you force your mind from state to state
then you wait for the tide to rise so
you can help yourself float off on your very own
live reality slot of weekly televised time

and only just then can you grow
your own wings that carry you to fly
cross an entire ocean oasis
to a sandy palm covered isle

to live above these swine
in this overcrowded underpaid
shallow shadowed fucking sty
you live to linger a while
to stay way up on high a mile
you might even sup on coconuts and crocodile

all the while forced to slip razor blades
into granny's last apple pie
better them then to grow old and die
locked away in a single dusty file

cause white or black no man can live
with a chain around his neck
all the way round then back
forever on the same dirty short circular one mile track

but pay no attention and follow the map
lest you look up and see
that there are a group
who think and talk and act alot like me

that the time has arrived
on this next time round I believe
to strike at the one who attempts to deceive
and weave a blood-soaked tapestry

to hide the facts from your own eyes
is not all right and it was given as our tent
and it was meant that we should fight
that phoney evil red blue and white light of enlightenment

and if thats where you strive
then call to yourself "Why"!
'round here all these people different shapes and size
and not a single person think to ask why?
your not supposed to know
another one might here your cry

to testify
that to the one who risks lives
might not die happy but he will die
we all will die why not have a reason to go out giving
to greet each day living
I speak and say it's our season

why have we not tried
to catch that liar's tongue
before it comes before us again
and split it wide or return that dry rye smile
to his teeth with a kick
and full of rage and pain drain
some of the wicked blood
from his eye or his throat
or better yet his chest

clear the room and let an ounce of lead fly past
through his vest on its way as we head west
and there aint no secret society or service
that could stop and deter us
as we burst forth with a force that could
drive all the enemies of humanity to hide
and swallow their pride
their pride this time
they've already tried mine

to celebrate mans past transgression
on any other man from the dawn of time
with a democracy based on hate
that singes the brow
that plows the furrows through the mind
and shouts out WRONG
and unlevels the load

but the load I carry might be downtown
to explode my frustration
on those thugs and clowns at the station
and as I die you might even catch why
but that's just another fact that wont be televised

no sense owning the title to a land of lies
your best bet, set on yur ass and imbibe your grave
and listen to this years repackaged bluegrass compilation trash

till my dying day I will be to pray but also heard to say
This country tis not of me, a land of liberty maybe
but also home of a freak
a land continually destroyed wrecked and rebuilt
upon the backs of slaves and subjects

sure you'll learn to dine and dash
cause to call this the land of plenty is just a little bit rash
lest you feed life on those old seeds that bleed strife
from those dying from their vacations in the Middle East

through bodies and bombs you can wade
searching for you dinner all day
but you unconsciously play toward the tags and the faces
sure you can look away but know this fact jack
they all say "American Made"

if the truth can be let calling
why do you continually strive to just get by?
"Why" is when men realize that the path to freedom
is not to be found in a woman's thighs
and not with a twist of lime hold the ice...
although I can see by your smile you thinks you sly
and all the hos that know just sigh
cause each night one might suffer the death
of a hundred guys in the eyes of time,
and you even know that aint know lie

the things that don't get better can just be buried
under their decomposing piles of information
this man molds his story with his very own worries
not from my point of sight
no reason to fly that direction in a hurry over night

I promise you he will not be a blessing in a stately three piece disguise
as you stake your claim to his sunny side of life and lies
you may try but in the skies...
this guy may go a path with a yellowy white eye at times
but these eyes have also seen that on the flip-side
the sun's also on the rise

if allowed to magnify the level of catasrophe
and to truly legitimize the trouble by the tide of our apathy
that is why they intentionally tranquilize your mind
a brain like spongy rubber passive to the cries

I find minority is a state of mind