What were the temples
Of the tribes, Judea
Brothels of slave Shepards
Of child lovers
And Christiandom was it's continuation, post revolt
Back it all goes back to Rome
Further back than that
To Greece
But ultimately the nomads who settled
In the land we call Egypt
These are the freaks
The monsters throughout history
Who eat of their own young and
Lay with them
Who manipulated what were the Pagans
Who continued on slavery, after the
End of its practice.
Cybele & Attis,
The cults that taught
Drugging as a tool
To manipulate behavior
Bend the rules, in their favor
Far off in Europe and since
The civil war, in America
And it was Truman's gang
That hijacked us
They have been hijacking
Various belief and countries,
For as long as there have been them.
We got back control
With some of us Americans getting in
And then they shot that young man
Going through Dallas, Texas
And ever since, it has been
Foreign elements pulling strings
Foul false Americans
Because they made of us
Of our conservative society
One of shame, one of privacy
Where normal people like you and me
Are afraid to speak out for what is right
In the face of ignorance
In the stead of savagery
They blackmailed and extorted our politicians
Right before our very eyes
I tell you, wake up
Be political, and only trust Americans
Including our southern siblings
Common people like us
Who merely wish to live free lives

What man under modernity, is free?
Comparative to the peasantry preceding
We must seem to be
Shackled to a strange form
Of self-induced slavery

Finally, the door emerged, bound in chains they stood,
Immobile and oppressed, their spirits misunderstood.
A blinding light ahead, rendering them sightless, blind,
Their burdened minds weighed by the ashes left behind.

Pressed together, yearning for one backward glance,
Denied even a fleeting chance, their hearts in a trance,
Before stepping through the door of no return,
Leaving lives and homes, forever spurned.

In that somber moment, sorrow weighed heavy on their hearts,
Facing the musky boat, unsure if a new day would start.
Crossing the threshold, bidding farewell to their past,
Embracing the unknown, the die of doom was cast.

With a resounding thud, the door closed, severing ties and fears,
Silent weeping, lost in the sea of their silent tears.
Bound for distant shores, spirits eternally broken,
wrapped in cold melancholy, their tragic story spoken.

Peace Profit
Made in a country near you
Things to do a job
What type of job?

To heal to **** to create to destroy
All in the ACME factory
Ready steady go get to work!
Fulfil your shift

Do your quota
Finish the order yesterday
There's much work to be done

You busy little bees
Make the fat boss rich
Capitalist wage slaves
Even the commies are the same

Make some more do the work
Enrich the rich you ******
There's no profit in laziness or peace
We are all environmental commodities

Oh! you've forgotten this familiar voice so soon?
I am the laborer you employed on your snow field
When your frozen farm could not stand
I was he, who brought you loam from my mother's graveyard
The lurking waves are near
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window and chide me once more.

Oh! landlord, you've forgotten this dark child so soon?
I am the tenant you welcomed into your garage
As your kitten took my place in the guest room
I have come with a basket of thorns woven by my people
For a share of what solely belongs to my ancestors
I am come knocking the moonlight door
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open Sir?
Or just look me at the window
And hide me in your balcony.

It is me, the Afrikana
I am come on mother's last errand
With a golden necklace handsomely beaten from her shackles
I am come with your cross Sir
Knocking, knocking
It is me, the Afrikana
Will you open the moonlight door?