Viva la Rebellion
Quick question… If these fucktards in government have their mouths wrapped so tightly around each other’s assholes that they don’t even know where the word ‘Liberal’ came from, yet are constantly using it as some typa divisive means to wagon-up, then what they fuck else are they completely clueless about?
I cried to day and I can’t say why My emotions got the best of me And it left me feeling high High from all my anger Frustrations run my life I beg and pray for answers But the answers don’t suffice Blank stares and ridicule is all that comes my way I tend to feel so miniscule More helpless day by day
Another day trapped in the sheep pen Gettin fed all typa feed Camped up right side the sheep gate Waiting for my chance to flee I don’t know what they be sayin But I know it ain’t for me Cuz allz I know is I can see and what I see is blasphemy
Maria Prosecuter was spotted today in Spanish Harlem wearing some typa pants and a shirt. It’s unclear who the designer is but woooaah… Pants… Look at me… Im soOooOoo pretty…
Shots in the dark It’s no wonder why you can’t make the mark It’s no wonder you done lost from the start It’s no wonder I don’t feel for your loss Shots in the dark Like those holes in your heart Oozing death into the ark Hope sinking in the fog
How is it that ‘people’ achieve so much yet accomplish absolutely nothing? Life is but a dream and the dreamers are in a coma. Bed ridden on life support, disheveled to the bone. Haphazardly living on time that is borrowed from trustees who can end it all at any given moment. Reluctant to ‘come to’ in fear that reality will never be as fulfilling as the illusion that expends even the faintest tenor.
Rueful and groaning in the mire Tempest floods Enduring each day with yawning obscurity Daubed as worthless scum Cleft by the scourge of detractors Insipid, embittered, besmirched
Peter pays for Paul in this wicked age Dire is the end of this system of slaves Bemused by dazzling paltry things As the land turns to desert And the seas are besieged Poison air and plastic rain Pesticides pollute the plains Nothing left to call pristine As we capitalize off all the living
How long Must I wait To be free from war To believe anything I pray And I pray What it takes to believe What it takes to be free Get up And screeeam For freedom Freedom Get up And screeeam For freedom Freedom
Crocodile tears feed the trepid flood
As the devil beats his wife
The scorched Earth’s pleas are a pie in the sky
As she clings for her dear life
I decided im being too tired for a hot date. Im just gonna eat Chinese food and watch something super korny…
TheSeedSowerz 