We live on stolen soil
****-stained by pride,
blood-branded by flags,
and haunted by the ghosts of truth we buried beneath capitalism.

No one owns this land
but we all die trying to claim it.
White blames Black.
Black blames White.
Distraction, deflection,
while the real ******* villains
sign contracts with the Devil
in corner offices with panoramic views
of the cities they’re starving.

They hide
in plain ******* sight
drinking $900 whiskey,
while your grandma chooses
between heat and insulin.

The system is not broken
it’s built this way.
Crime? That’s survival in a jungle
where the lions drive Range Rovers
and the hyenas run for Parliament.

Education?
They teach us how to kneel.
Skills?
Only if they serve the machine.
Energy?
Sold to foreign devils
while we eat cold soup in the dark.
Infrastructure?
Rotting bridges like our hope
hollow, rusted, sagging
under the weight of hypocrisy.

Unemployment?
That’s a feature, not a flaw.
Keep them hungry,
keep them angry,
but never too united.

And politicians?
******* pigs in silk suits.
They don’t serve us
we serve them.
They gorge on lies,
******* out policies
that choke the poor
while their children fly first class to Swiss schools.

They smile on screens,
preach peace and progress,
but behind closed doors
they're circle-jerking over oil rights
and who's getting the next cut
of your grandmother’s pension.

You want change?
Then stop tweeting.
Burn something.
Make fear your language,
like they taught you.
Not because violence is noble
but because nothing else works.

Once, tyrants feared truth.
Now, they own it.
Twist it.
Broadcast it.
And call it "news."
ah that's Fake News - ******* idiot
They made lies the air we breathe,
so now we choke on fiction
and call it freedom.

They convinced us
we’re enemies
color-coded,
class-divided,
tribalized,
distracted.

Mean­while,
the world burns
and the arsonists auction off the ashes.

This isn’t society.
This is a farm.
We are cattle.
Fattened on fear,
milked for labor,
then slaughtered for profit.
Our children inherit nothing
but debt, war, trauma,
and a planet rigged to implode.

And still we smile.
Still we say “please.”
Still we wave the flag
while standing in line for our own ******* execution.

We tell each other "Love wins."
We post peace signs.
Meanwhile,
a man somewhere is choking his wife
because the rent’s late
and the rage has nowhere else to go.

We say "sorry"
like it scrubs away the scars.
But sorry doesn't fix broken teeth.
Or burned cities.
Or empty stomachs.
Or shattered dreams.

You want revolution?
Then stop hoping.
Start haunting.
Make the halls of power tremble
with your footsteps.
Make corruption scream
before it dies.

Because this isn’t about politics.
This is about survival.
This is about soul.
About taking back
what we were never even allowed to imagine.

Imagine a world
where a liar in a suit gets dragged
instead of promoted.
Bang!
Where corruption ends with consequence.
Bang!
Where justice isn’t a concept
it’s a ******* blade,
Bang!
Who's next in line !
Deceive this country
Deceive these people
Bang!
Who is next in line !
No time for incompetent, liars and thieves ! Because we have something for those politics
Bang!
Who is next in line !

No more praying.
No more petitions.
No more playing nice with demons
who smile better than saints.

This is our fire.
This is our scream.
We built this hell
and now,
we burn it the **** down,
We only get one life
Why shouldnt it be our best life !