A pauper once pondered if he would ever fall in love with life again,
after feeling the rain during a chance encounter with fate
he abandoned the lottery,
with the tenacious ferocity
only a vagabonds prophecy
could stake to his faith

For he’s fought his life with losers and uncouth career choosers,
he was the splinter caught between a hellfire and winter
after Papa State eraced the grace from a once true and youthful face
he found the hunger birthed by adversity is a lethal fuel for change
So now he’ll never rest upon a steadfast crest lest he can can feel his dreams like pain

Want to see
How the filthy rich live
Before I
Should become one
Myself
Rather die
Than comply
With the status quo notion
Of progress
Achieved
Only set in slow motion
And masses aggrieved
When appeasement has failed
And the stimulus spent
When the city upscaled
Can’t afford to pay rent
When the gentry
Carte Blanche
Becomes staunchly imposed
On the food insecure
Still ensuring their homes
Built atop the displaced
The eviction note’s
Victimless crime
Is eraced