Frustrated with justification/ hearts racing/

Xanax craving as my mind is caving/

a lunatic raving is being created, and I’m not even blazing/

feeling all caged in inside of this maze/

enraged but saving the blade till I’m paid/

whose gonna slave for wages like pages?/

were in the dark ages of fifes and surfs/

outrageous that our lives aren’t worth our weight in dirt/

if we don’t make it to work on a daily basis/

rarely do we get our raises, or get more time to take vacations/

I make these statements in a near-Haitian former plantation that’s now a tourist destination/

just waiting for my tourism expiration so I can explore more of this new age meditation/

that takes the sound of the waves when they pound on the pavement/

and astounds those from out town with elation/

rephrasing the famous and amazing quote from the lost pages of the lost ages/

the dark caves that have since become cages for non-caucasians remain ageless in this nation/

history is lifeless, our past is based on the futures likeness/ but I burn it down as I write this/

& I earned a pound from the psychics that asked me to predict this crisis back when I was lifeless/