These moods are dark encroaching forces
Shackled to sad fortunes and unfair fates
They wait for things to improve without acting
Saying that by praying they will make it alright
Bent knees in supplication suckling on this greedy nation
Brown smelly droppings like they were caramel toppings
Fools facing downwards while surgeon’s hands deftly
Strangle any angle of retreat or success
Stealing the last happy hopeful breath
Till my brothers and sisters retire to death