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• Artiste: Downcast
• Titre: System
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A system designed that perpetrates failure. In order for winners a percentage must lose. We can afford a few bad apples just so long as we blame it on drug use and booze. Society must dig to the root of the problem: separation - again rearing its ugly head. Repression - the poor getting the picture while brilliant minds are raped and left for dead. A redistribution of economic income ultimately further benefits the elite while we work and slave here like prisoners. Forever beneath your economic American Dream. “work or die” are word to live by. Slave labor in the land of opportunity. Homeless or jobless? Then they're words to die by. It's a crime to receive something from nothing. So for now society cries. But they continue to feed us lies and for now I will abide us waiting in these endless lines. My home is death-row, a land you choose to ignore where suppression drags my shadow back down. Products of your system on display on the street. You can see I'm down (from your rolled up car window) but do you count me out? My home is death-row where the numbered curbs bleed. Suppression we'll organize - revolutionize and your capitalist new right system will be left for dead