My 8x8 cell

Summer 2010

Being raised for slaughter is all we're good for.

When you're an American, you get to live a lie;

With pride, and a smile.

The common American citizen

More a mass than an individual

One that must be contained.

Damned if it roams free

For it is the most



Of the Nation.

Rolling the wheel of progress down a hill labeled servitude

The public turns a blind eye towards the truth

And keeps on truckin',

Powering the economic machine.

Completely apathetic towards the lies.

Completely docile, sobriety in check.

The physical force of the blue collar spins the cogs,

While the white raise a family in a suburban neighborhood

Both feeding money to the political machine

With enough power to give them anything they'd like

And the same power to take it all away in an instant

The machine runs

Desiring to devour the hand that feeds

As it feeds.

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