Death and the ***** got a high exchange rate
How much marketing is put up for the hate
Its graffiti how the bullets are sprayed on us
Splattered on our T-shirts to reminisce but never do make it on any front page
The museums are filled with masterpieces painted from the bristles of our anguish
The harsh circumstances that make us selfish
If my blood turned into a currency
how much would you sell me out for?