two sides of the same coin, two parts of the same struggle, a heavier burden to juggle,
Ive seen trouble in the eyes of the children on the news,
visions of the glazed and un-phased, shuffling in ruin
as foreign investors appraise the worth of the people theyre *******
the one moral man looking in the mirror asks what are we doing?

Coffee and cocoa-beans,
oil and toil,
diamonds on the queens ears ripped from the soil,
these are the things for which we ****,
and people wonder why they can never get their fill,
why they feel morally ill?
perhaps paying taxes dosen't wipe the dirt from your fingers,

halfway around the world construction workers hurry the child to drop his dead mothers hand,
so they can bulldoze her home because the land is high in demand
for agricultural redevelopment, swine being brought in for re-settlement
people for pigs, the market is your master,
the dollar is your god, and your life is a disaster

the reason your life is a facade, is you cant turn false idols through ego worship into god
from a fake wife with fake *******
to fake kids with fake mental problems,  A.D.D.  generation and corrupt therapists to absolve them
to fake pastors, with fake ideals
this is what happens when one man profits from what another man steals,
and corporations re-define how love feels

and the rich try and justify why the poor have no food
why their own poor have no food, but why its more important to allocate funds to the protection of crude,
this is the slavery to which you have been raised
the hypocrisy of democracy can go on for days,

America, land of the thieves, where ideology is cheaper than bark on the trees
America, the land of the lie, where the children of the poor happily die
and yet America, the land where ideals meet reality, where the hopeful optimism of the middle class rightfully challenges the decadent edifices of the status quo
and where evil in the hearts and the minds of all of us has a chance to be laid to rest through the spirit of altruism,
America the ultimate battleground for truth to triumph over lies,
but where you stand, in the end, is the ultimate surprise.

Coming from poverty by design, bloodline on the outside
Cold hearted world offers little in the way of placement
Home son, I was told is what you make it
I made a promise to myself early to better my living arrangements
Hostility in the homeland broke the best and huddled the rest
Is it really better?
What was then a haven has become the slums the government doesn't see the point in saving
Displacing everyone, non-discriminatory meaning they **** any and all races
The projects unfinished
Supposed to be stepping stone temporary digs though some never made it out
The image faded out
Cave em in,
Raze it, redevelopment
Resurrection is the aim of betterment
Hear the hatred in my cadences
There goes the neighborhood to micro brews and vape toting middle age
Dousche bags and ironic hat patronage
Grandmama left Brooklyn
Saying **** ain't been the same since the hipsters took it
Where's the history? Look at the back bay nothing ethnic left in the marketplace
Fairy tales are rarely destiny
Not every step leads to promenades some only bring you closer to misery
As for me
I'm no longer in need but the thought of the hunger is not escaping me
My sagest dreams faded in static clouded space
In other words
I'm losing sleep
My conscience is a ******* thief, crooked like the reason my gramma don't play her numbers
Unlucky heard in symphony
We took the scars with open arms with the promise of a fortune she most likely won't live to see
When I bought my humble home and hung a diploma carefully it meant more than blood
We sweat no tears, expectations fallen over the past years
I promised
It's all open pastures if we just make it past here

The randomness of rain
as it splashes on worn shoes and frayed  collars.
Wet in Lewisham the streets awash
with promises of  heartache.
A wind without a name,
commences a distant roar of thunder.
The Police siren follows a path
beating down to the Silent Whisperer
a man with no grace
to a steet arcade
outlasting redevelopment
His fists clenched
as to show his anger to the world beyond.

i am so hurt
strangled in my sorrows
from every angle
eyes shut a redevelopment in my bone marrow
until i cannot breathe
i have left no more stamina
breath exhaled
bones crumbled to ivory dust
i lay with a soul now empty
the grease remain scraped up with a  spatula
just know i will always love you plenty

Electric night caught on; The great glass
produced by the cathedral is that which
cannot be found in Reed Park. Desert
desert redevelopment training on Betty
and Waldensky's ideas related to language
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Zargas is an Irish Destroyer, whose name
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This is one of the causes of the dance is
strange, Brazil is appearing for Betty's
conversations, so that anyone can try to
teach I want to go to Baghdad, now in Sand
and Ireland, after Marcus Lawrence in Georgia
and people in the ancient city of three women
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Skate Rock Rock Skate Rock Skate Ellen Baby
Dollar Change in the program is public smokers,
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The 60-year-old jazzy vocal, 60-year-old
workout is the voice and move of both parents.
There are many reasons. The Brazilian Band
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white and blue homes, and three women.
To find out if he wants to get more than four,
get a poor mother at home. Secondary School
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there is a secondary school. In addition,
some people want to know However, doctors
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Arfai cannot be your pride. The segment
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Rock Our Teachers were stones and stones,
stones, stones, stones and stones