They're Right, You're Not Pretty

Bending, breaking, shifting and shaping,
peeling the book back in all corners.
Redirect and inspect, clean and dispose of,
elaborate on why you're right and I'm wrong.

Practicing religion like it’s law or some theory,
Sneaking between the lines you don’t like.
Writing down verses and putting John in front of them,
Whispering your own words here and there.

Adding in sugar, and stirring up chaos,
Laughing behind closed doors at the believers.
Rumor has it, stories tell us, and cameras damn-well
Don’t lie.
Cock the gun, pull the trigger, and hit the mailman.

A ring that symbols forever, a stone that symbols blood shed,
Loosing arms and trading limbs for a thousand dollars.
Right or wrong, good or bad, black or white, paper or plastic.
Fall into an ocean and see who saves you.
Deal or no deal?

Shooting venom in vinyl rockets,
glass splinters across the pavement,
Wounding those, and only those, naïve enough to watch.

The snake recoils, it’ll strike again. You’re ready for it’s sting.
You’ve heard the words, you’ve read the novels,
You know the ending.

You’re allowed, but that one isn’t.
We don’t want  bruised or bought or broken.
We don’t want used or sliced or swollen.
We don’t want the man that stands behind you, or his daughter.

Felons form a line there,
Let us label you and poke you,
with ten foot sticks and nine-inched poles  of plastered paint.

Wrong again, you failed, you’re worthless.
Jump off a bridge or pop some pills.
Become a statistic, become a number,
Become a grave sight.

Behind bars lie all the problems,
Other countries produce diseases.
They're the reason for the terror of World War Three.


Would you like a cigarette?