Insidious doors that close linoleum floors keep the secrets of the man hidden from the poor.
It's a shame the way he makes me work for more.
Fear is the weapon of our enemies and allies.
Crying wolves, crying wolf while slaying dear.
Maybe we are better off this way.
On blue moons, our eyes turn red and we say we are done and won't take it again.
Force fed, force shaved, forced to listen and forced to behave.
It's a shame the way he makes me feel depraved.
I shout, scream, stand up and get mad.
Tear apart the room without saying a word.
***** you, you aren't my Dad.

Have my cake and eat it too?
**** me off under the table while the social network takes a stab. I don't care. F%&K; the media's news.
I see the headlines spelled a million different ways, but you are still the one that has to sleep at night, knowing you nurtured a nation that reaped and *****.

The innocent, the young, the scared, the hopeful, the dreamers, the soldiers, the vagabonds, the artists, the entertainers, the founders, the church-goers, the fishermen, the students, the Samaritans, the stay at home mothers, the policemen, the American man. His soul and the spirit they tried to preserve.
Lied to and tapped, again and again.
It's a shame the way he makes me give and take.
Inside us, inside the US.
Without asking.