The art of broken glass
Dropped and glittered the streets still
A heart of smoke and ash
Blocks are littered and lethal
Our martyrs froze in black boxes
Bitter and sweet pills
Cock crows the last hour hidden the beast fills
Hells boroughs with hungry people
Tell Zoro that Del Toro is here
Out running people
They sell morals and fear like guns and steeples
The sums of evil men women nuns and priest
Feel the pain
Ain't none unequal all praying to the Son that we sequel
Or at least find peace till
The breath we breathe becomes infinite
We will rest believe in loves innocence
And any implication of this love
Intimidates nations of fists who's gloved
To the wrist for the risk of their prints
Being left at the scene
While the rest of us kept what is left of a dream

We about a thousand pounds of ground rupturing Mountain town brothers
Bringing down anything found with unsound structuring
The crown ain't functioning
A bunch of kings
Turning to they burgers and they onion rings
Discouraged at who running things
In need of courage among other things
Indeed insurgents of a mother's sling
Breast-feeding without covering
The rest bleeding their lungs feaning relief
Breathing the heat they found comforting
Defeated by the month of spring
No trees no leaves wondering
If people are like lumber and they numbers mean nothing
Then no wonder they got no green
Coveting what others dream of owning
While ones doing they own thing
Another feels the alone sting
Lovers are coming home for them Nina Simone sings
"Keeper of the Flame" the hope for the simple
Who see outside the frame of all these broken windows