Author Topic: Dear President Bush (Read 185 times)

HighRolla · « **on:** January 29, 2006, 03:23:58 PM »

If blood has been spilled, Who's liable to be killed?
When reality is fake, where can we find mistake?

Well heres mistake, a taste of reality.....

Dear President Bush how can you explain these atrocities,
My love for mankind is preached through my philisophy,
Are you followin a prophecy? Or on a path of beaurocracy?
Using Democracy to justify death for your theocracy,
As my eyes get impailed while i watch the recent news
I know information has 'derailed' by the bias tv crews
Tha aroma of death inhaled as i step into their shoes
Minor anguish exhaled yet the underdog will foreva lose
Words cannot describe or derive information from inside
The beast that hides beneath these peoples lives
Because as fatalities rise i then learn to despise
Your political flies and shield myself from ya lies
Now as my rhymes elavate civillian deaths escalate,
Your pawns gravitate towards wars and then manipulate
Countries and infultrate the people's simple state
N' Ya troops masterbate to the carnage sinful hate
Tha Orleans people will later know ya are deacetful
Cuz ya high steeple of power is tha tower for unequal
Ruthless and lethal liein to all n becomin 'greetful'
Tha new sequal to Gulf war is now anythin but peaceful
Believe me when i say ya are tha Anti-Christ here today
Philanthrapy will never lay on the path of ya gory-stay
A Pyschopath's only tray awaitin for his only prey
This Republican's onset spray leavin discarded shells away
Verbal cartridge used and purposely shot n abused
Ya politics are fused with corruption n bias news,
Ya dishonesty is refused, ever stepped into our shoes?
Will not stand when accused, mentality then is bruised
We are in a quagmire of poverty on fire, birds on a wire
In the arms of a liar, what to admire? A devil in attire?
Paraplegics n kids dead, casualities increase n spread
Point blank to the head, a horific scene of blood shed
Oil in a silva spoon fed, Happy home filled with lead
Babies shot, a pool of red, violence from wat ya said
From these final bars i want you to read em n listen
Our lives are in jars, cuz once u break em cant fix em