[ i'm learning how to use my gifts of words and sound for the Storm ]

kneeling at the well

bittersweet like collared greens

yolks on me I guess

my alter ego would never consider

such stabs in the face of my masters

but i can talk a good game…good game….good game…

unfortunate, no one opts listen

boycott the billionaire

too prideful, glazed in hubris

a dank perfume of righteous musk

hollow echoes the empty tunes

absently wistled behind such prideful walls

King of an empty castle

fallow lands kept brown and rotting

warriors only cry for pleebs

until the stores are barren

the straw man keeps the devil down

only the crows feasting on unwitting eyes

a murder of crow-ded streets

panhandlers and dimebag hoodlums

pray to play in foolish games

yet do not know the rules

the straw men calling all the plays

cries of freedom, fire, conspiracy

none of it is true

all of it is Truth