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 Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

A Rose Is Still, A Rose



Yeah, I remember when a rose was still a rose,
Before the quality of life became
          THAT MUCH MORE CONTROLLING!
Before temptation and pleasure turned
   Thirteen year old girls into mothers,
They were barely developed,
          Their minds were underdeveloped and
                    They deserved it.

You remember it too, I know. Your virtues in life
Have not led you too far down
          THAT ROAD OF PHANTOMS AND MADMEN!
You're still pure, in that you've enjoyed
   The company of others instead of
Shooing them away.
          They were worth less
                    But you compared them to more.

Yeah but that was so far long ago, too far, too far.
Before that one-way road was built,
          THAT HIGHWAY TO HELL!
With people still treading on unforgiving grounds
   And unforgiving pasture
Where we laid our loved ones
          On the ground where the proverbial hell
                    Could easily reach them.

You've promised to bring me to your ol' stompin' grounds.
Why? So you can shoot me in the head
          AND LEAVE ME THERE!
You'd never do that but someday
   You hope someone will so
That finally my mouth will have shut
          Your mind will have emptied,
                    And part of us will have died.

Yeah, we were all stuck like glue to that special man,
Before he turned around
          TO SLAP US IN THE FACE!
Because we became so full of ambition
   We wanted sh!t and
We wanted to get it for ourselves.
          Not to be supported and in debt to
                    One goddamn man.

You know, in our time, we swallowed more Pepsi that pride,
We ate more hamburgers to soothe
          SOMETHING UNKNOWN TO US!
In hopes that one day someone
   Would throw TNT under our houses
To awaken us so that we could see
          That we didn't always
                    Have game.

Yeah we sure have bypassed the meaning of life
As it was hurriedly swallowed along with
          GREED, SELFISHNESS, AND HATE!
We'd rather have money than meaning.
   We call too much attention to ourselves
And our things that
          We turn to hate a lot more
                    Than loving self worth.

You see, a flower still blooms and after all these years,
It grew through this concrete that
          POPULATES THE WORLD!
And growing up in the ghetto don't change our views
   Because we have all seen our fair share of
Death and past lives
          To sit through this one and knowing that a
                    Rose is still, a rose.







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