Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Streets

Let's pretend the world died
And left us in its wake.

We won't have to wear those
Long shirts.
We won't have to think that
Long shirts
Hide the potential poverty.

It's too late.

Battered, beaten,
Laying on a slab of concrete,
Dying, just like everyone else.

Accepting the same fate as everyone else.

August 11, 2005
Suge


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Streets

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