Trapped below the sewage of war, bodies upon bodies.
They aren't people any more, more like mushy rotten bananas.
When I poke their faces the cells wipe off onto my finger tips.
Well it hasn't happened to us yet, so let's jam out again tonight!
Drinks upon drinks, we are gluttonous creatures dependent on abundance.
Money is reliable.
Gambling, 30, 40, 50 virgins!
Hate the game, not the player!
Money is my God, as it is the only thing I see.
Work corporate slave, work.
Even while the war rages on, your office chair is built with the bones of your first born.
Isn't it so crazy that we are the only righteous ones left here?
Who really cares if people die?
Gambling, 60, 70, 80 dead fathers and daughters!
You wish you could have the food in my stomach.
Drip, drip, your skin is like the paper dollars I bathe in.
Paper cuts all over my wealthy fat body.
You are trapped on this poverty stricken planet, but not me!
So money is real, where is your god?
So money is here, where is your god?
God started this life, I'm just making fear a profit!!!

© Junemousonae