Babylon Fix
Lift thouselves up, oh, ye
I-dren, and be not consumed
by the fabrications of the wicked,
nor be ye fooled
by the false gods
of reality
- Jahhannibal
they beat you down
when they think you are poor
until you cannot
give any more
they stand on your hands
hollow out your core
steal into your Spirit
pimp your body as a whore
their gods ascribe your labor
their demons amass your dollars
your Soul becomes shipwrecked
lies beached on an empty shore
follow what men believe
and your sky will become lonely
the Earth, angry,
cries and bleeds
from scars and wounds received
through perpetual war
serving the reality
of a master-slave mentality
diminishes flesh
undermines stability
corrupts reason
poisons the perception of security
converts all joy
into curses and commodities
the starless and bible black
collapses the festering sore
karma redeems the crucified
reveals the greater wisdom of funk lore
the container is contained
within an infinite enclosure
which has no beginning nor end
the cell within the cell within
cannot comprehend
the divine, omni-magnificent warden
who hears the voices from the void -
songs of the angelic choir?
who ever chooses uprightness over downpressedness,
attending the work of the universal chore?