Our mother grows angry
Retribution will be swift
We squander her soil
and suck out her sweet black blood to burn it
We turn money into God and salivate over opportunities
To crumple and crinkle our souls for that paper
That gold money has spent on us
Left us in small boxes, dark rooms
Bright screens, empty tombs
Left investing our time in hollow philosophies
To placate the fear of our bodies returning back into our mother
Demand awakening
The path we have taken has rotted
Ignite, stand upright, conduct yourself like lightening
Because the retribution will be swift