Modern Day Experience
Set the Mood
Oh child, my beautiful child, born to be free, careless, and wild,
Welcome to the cage, built of my rage, upon a stage that pays no wage.
Here you go now grab the keys, you can do as you please, so long as it contributes to my ease.
Just reach through these thickened chains, grip them tight and release your reins, freedom I offer to bandage your pains.
But these words were expressed behind a fist, connected to my face for their own bliss.
I run, I run, I run; slammed door, jammed door, why, I'm their son.
They promised it was over, no more pain from their hands, so I opened the door once again.
Black eye and bloody nose, black eye and bloody nose, black eye and bloody nose.
No one will ever believe you, so cry, and know that I do this because I love you and you disappoint me.
A child dies, only to resurrect stronger in resentment.
Marine, pull yourself up by your laces, much to see in many places, you know we all fight for God and his graces.
Loaded one by one, to twenty-eight, don't stress the spring and you'll do great, twenty-nine from the chamber and extra on your plates.
You see, Marine, they are not human but vermin, listen now, loud and proud, I call to you from manipulated sermons.
Blood spatter, brain matter, across a canvas made of flesh produced with greed and spite for batter.
A beautiful sight that fills with fright, the enemies we chased all through the night, fill another canvas with burning holes from your brush made with lead and end their plight.
Come home now and forget what we taught, the violence was necessary, the violence you wrought.
No one will ever believe you, but you will continue to rue, as those around are blinded from our ever-present truth.
The Marine dies in silence, but continues to walk with memories of violence, resurrected through his strength and determination to remove false veils of the pious.
White man, white man, bury your head in the sand, not to remain ignorant but to be subjugated by a dark hand.
You cry for your people hanged from a steeple, but white skin is nothing more than a symbol for evil.
What does it feel like, to be stabbed with words like a pike, with your mouth taped over by sentiments of spite?
Don't answer, do not, for we want nothing but death and rot, we carry out our mission of a racist and devious plot.
Brother against brother, and sister against sister, gripping at broken hearts so hard you get blisters.
An entire generation dies, drowned out by the suffering, the pleas, and their cries.
Resurrection awaits once more, and hope comes knocking at the door.
I hope, I hope, I hope....
Be the proof of my hope!
