In my last few hours with this tropical place
Imma tryna freestyle, a topical ace.
What you resist persists, we might as well
praise all the sick and twisted faces that yell
about the need for war, for sanctions
and torturous hell. The populace anxious
and fractured, the spell of separation
the lack of reparation. Dread
capitalism rearing its dying head,
thrashing while the activism feeds
its fire. Do I attract your ire?
Look, we can’t fight against the war
machine, every battle adding benzine.
The situation is dire. We’re up in arms
but that’s more of the same,
just a different spin of the game
’cause we need something to blame.
The solution is dawning just out
of sight and the bridge to the new
world is a write away. Each verse
you say leads us to claim all
the evils we’re afraid to name.
What we deny rides our back
never cuts any slack. We point
accusing fingers at the obvious
zingers. So much greed rooting
in the fear we hold so dear.
Face its tentacled embrace
so this year love will appear
give the all clear.