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KEYENNA: CALL THE SHOTS.
Call the shots, and make the trade pass.
Speak to the filth to make way for the light.
It is a call in fruity written in our palms,
For our beauty is in our Psalms.
Wipe clean the marks on its flight
Rooted in greed and bitterness
With feet rushing into the downtrodden
And making wealth from the pack of taint.
They would throw a penny,
And say “We are born out of luck”.
But our hands are dung in a rock
As insecurity beats us in revolve.
Come let's rid these pains with love
With our chains secured in peace.
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