It is their wish That this kwashiorkor kills us. This kwashiorkor of hunger This kwashiorkor of starving Under the umbrella Of wanting to be purified It is their wish; Their wish of wanting To watch us die a thousand death Before death It is their wish; Their wish that we see Our brothers as wizards After our lifes At every dusk And at dawn We work our heads out On how to hunt them Million feets down It is their wish. I know they hate me now More hatred than before Cause its their wish That we know not their wish This wish of theirs That blinds the eyes From seeing anything odd This wish of theirs That enslaves our minds And lure it into a world where wealths are packaged With heavenly bags of joy This wish of theirs That is out to suck us dry And feed on our skulls Or gather to watch vultures Feed on our unsavored remains That will trigger another wish For them to be able, to bake us Another dogmatic cake Of blind backwardness All is their wish. I know they hate me now; More hatred than before Cause its their wish That we know not their wish. 4/11/14
Posted on: Wed, 05 Nov 2014 12:49:05 +0000
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