Drunk-Web

We should never have said our dreams in public No one would hear them but the man And he will forget our dreams When a person who can't says "Yes We Can." The people will listen on the day we speak But 40 years later our legacy is bleak We should never have said our dreams in public We should never have said our dreams in public We should never have said our dreams in public Snipers coming SNIPERS COMING *shot*

Somewhere in the street Where an innocent man Walks around a tree What does he see? Brutal policemen Looking at the man With eyes as sharp as a knife Run for your life Rusty revolvers Striking him quickly As he falls to his death And I quote his last breath : "Oh, you violent people. Why do you hurt us all?"

Does anyone want to hear the story of my friend before I silence myself He was 15 years of age before he was killed He could not understand himself He lived next to the lands of the lord And the residents hated his heart As much as he wanted friends to support him His luck flew away like a dart I did not have friends either And I wanted to see what was wrong Turns out lately he realized he was gay He was hated in his block for so long He said the people were Christian And they thought that God hated fags But if your lord wants us to be equal Why show off your offensive flags? We all were made in God's image And you think that is true But

"Social media is the Second Coming of Hitler." ~Drunk-Web

Try to enter the gate Where a lonely person is sealed inside Legend says his name is economy And the key to his gate is passed on Passed on to every rich ceo in america Only the ceos can visit economy And get even more rich then they are Economy thinks that america is fat But that is only because he has only seen the ceos And their fat ass pockets He thinks everyone is rich outside the gate But the ceos will never set him free to see the truth They just want the poor outside to work and die Work and die It repeats until even the ceos the poor And economy will still live on Trapped in the gate Weak and powerless

My grandma is knitting Knitting a new sweater for me She makes a pattern of black and white I ask her if the colors could come together To make a beautiful gray fade She says that the colors can never be together "Black hates white White hates black It has always been that way", she says I do not know why but I begin to think I begin to think about how that relates to us How we are still slaves and we do not know that How we are still killing innocence and we do not care But there are three things that the colors have in common They are both afraid of peace They are both afraid of a better change They are both afraid of pain And as much as we

I remember when the boy used to wear me We would go so many places I saw him grow I also saw his feet grow Hard to understand But easy to depress As his feet grew an inch per month Our times were getting darker and more bleak Because I was his favorite pair of shoes Society now controls his tastes in clothing Society forced him to hang me from a thin cord Society forces him to wear new shoes Since that day I see him stare at me through a window Crying and dreaming Dreaming of the times when he used to be free When he used to wear me

White cat Passes through a black cat Calls him out for his current bad luck White cat Falls in black oil by mistake Trying to get oil off of his fur He cannot get it off He turned into a superstition He cannot talk to his white buddies anymore And now every white cat calls out As they pass through the now black cat All of the white cats fall in black oil They try to get oil off of their fur They cannot get it off They turned into superstitions And with no more white cats There was no one to talk to And no one could hate them Because there was bad luck everywhere