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Edited on Wed Oct-06-04 02:02 PM by Minstrel Boy
from Zach, just before the Iraq invasion:
I was born with the voice of a riot, a storm lightening the function, the form, far from the norm I won't follow like cattle, I'm more like the catalyst calm in the midst of battle who let the cowboy on the saddle? He don't know a missle from a gavel; para terror troopin flippin loops of death upon innocent flesh but I'm back in the cipher my foes and friends, witha verse and a pen against a line I won't toe or defend, instead I curse at murderous men in suits of professionals who act like animals this man child, ruthless and wild who gonna chain this beast back on the leash? this Texas furor, for sure a, compassionless con who serve a , lethal needle to the poor, the cure for crime is murder? on the left, left, right, left but it's just a march of death
I read the news today, oh boy, a snap shot of a midnight ploy vexed and powerless, devoured my hours I'm motionless with no rest 'cause a scream now holds the sky, under another high-tech driveby a lie is a lie this God is an eagle or a condor for war nothing more Islam peace, Islam stare into my eye brother please off our knees to beef now we feed their disease, interlocked our hands across seas what is a flag but a shroud out loud, and outside my window is a faceless crowd 'cause a cowering child just took her last breath, on snare in the march of death
on the left, left, right, left but it's just a march of death
here it comes the sound of terror from above he flex his Texas twisted tongue the poor lined up to kill in desert slums for oil that burn beneath the desert sun now we spit flame to flip this game we are his targets taking aim we're the targets taking aim all his targets are taking aim
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