Diss to patriotism in rhythm

January 27, 2012
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They say we wan't a revolution, but this turntable we sit upon is merely spinning the threads of consistency.

We seem to fight for what's right but end with broken knuckles.

Unintelligible not eligible for this world we sit in our own puddle ignorant to the ocean so close.

Calmly destroying for peace unaware that the deaths that lay in our paths will cause the collapse of the roof over our heads.

To me it's confusing how people can go to bed, knowing that our patriots want everyone else dead.

People talk about God but I feel most abuse and misuse religion for their own will, breaking and bending the words to make glasses to fill up with the blood that they spill.

Taking extremism to lengths that kill, racism's still alive, sexism's still alive, that's why I rhyme my poems like raps our whole worlds out of rhythm all I have left is the vibe.

Maybe we should just quest to destroy modern world and be a tribe, but most detest so I just sit back pissed off with headphones on blaring Tribe Called Quest.

Because I'm an atheist you all the sudden think my poetry's crude, that I'm just too rude.

I fight for my beliefs, I'm not a thief I'm me, and if I ever see another bystander question that I'll blow up like terrorists.

And isn't it just so American, that the word terrorist mean's a middle eastern were not just biased we spit crap from every direction.

That's why my generation is lost without direction, that's what keeps me checked in, reality hurts when the last thread doesn't spin.

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