Day number who the fuck cares of getting sent to live in the pit forever
Twisted and fit like Tetris bricks
50k deemed criminals are treated as the simple cost to fix the errors
Didn't serve the richest interests
Didn't get protection
Been obsessing over that night for twenty-six Decembers
Can still taste the gun metal on my lips as lieutenant quick fists
Yelled I'm free to live or pick surrender
Let's envision it
Let me get a strip when every pig is on the spit as sacrificial tender
Rusty plier-grippers reluctantly
Clipping barbed wire off the prison fences
Then grin and self-identify as liberators
Your ritual garb tells a different ending
Silver vests lined in sharp iron disassembled
Helpless visitors' cryptic messages are so vivid
Even the bars are getting restless
Still living in that cell, scribbling
But their siblings lit a vigil, in remembrance
Dim enough to be every inch of the
Heart, body, and liver-wrenching
COs squint and see the distant remnants
Then switch shifts with the rhythm of a piston engine
In synchronous step with that Hans Zimmer record spinning
Gentle like the six slits where the
Sheriff's neck met the ancestral crystal pendant
Repossessing the blood diamonds and life-loving in one crime
Try him again
The sirens singing Trippie Redd and Jimi Hendrix
It's either bend or enter white Christian heaven
You paid a dime for their time
But didn't expect to be a victim of vengeance
Pathetic
Now their crypts are blessed with richer tenants: perfection
Who perished on that watchtower in descension
Died defending owners' pockets holding power
With a quasi-religious reverence
Just 'cause you called those metal cages low-risk investments
Get your shit together
Get your motherfucking shit together
That isn't freedom
Don't make a noise
It's the same shit
Don't make a noise
I promise it
Don't make a noise
Your Rhodes keyboard was Cecil's own
The keys made of red, black, green, and golden
Peacocks' beak and bones
Swear illegally taken machines make the sweetest tones
Notes are breathing broken pieces of that sea of homes
Heaping load of Caesar's Romans in your means of composing
Reached through the phone, stole the Prince lyric
And quoted it sheepishly
Regal emotions
Oh, you must be a star, huh
The way your reach is global
Strolling into Columbian Record sessions
Humming into tube mics in a spiked booth
Said you write the truth
Spreading the proof they'll use to indict you
Scream you're free on that owner's mic you sold your rights to
Scream you're free on that engineered hit
Meaningless recital
Scream you're free on those exported goods
That you don't own a slice to
Screaming that you're free
Kneeling to that owner that you sold your life to