Alright.
As I was sayin’.
Askin’ you
Why you that way.
We’re better than this,
Hate.
Is now leftover
Smoke.
Mirrors;
Confused,
Feeling
Thoughts.
Thinkin’
About hard feelings.
Dealing
With a stacked deck.
Wrecked;
And feeding the poor me story
With media
Reminding us
That we’re right
To fight
Our way out
Of the confusion.
Seen
As more and less than we are.
Against
A grain
That’s insane.
Simple.
Like right before our eyes,
With cries
That we mistake.
