I don’t know of zombies and flesh eating men that smoke elaborate bath salts,
I only know of people that dabble in evil, gambling man’s faults.
Pushing so many to the voting holes, to cast ballots for men who do less than totem poles.
Fancy suits and impressive words, decent degrees, sweaty palms and cheap souls,
synthetic hair lines and side burns but genuine gold.
The same groups that recommended crack and heroin for the heroes and heroines of the hood,
Until they peddled their sweet ass into the suburbs it became no good.
Them no good hoodlums and their no good crack, them no good addicts and why are they all no good blacks,
Them no good kids, fiends from the womb. ..
Nobody fucking considers the good ‘ol politicians, trading good ‘ol favors for social position.
aligning the minions, lining their pockets with millions, it was never about the opposition,
Next term they get their turns.
Next term they’ll tell their lies, next term…
I don’t know about zombies and flesh eating men that smoke elaborate bath salts,
I only know of men that claim to constitute their lives around our very constitution.
Closet story lines, flipping back 100 folds like centerfolds, pimping prostitution, with new solutions…
Coming to light on infidelity scams, pocket books and cell phone cams.
And the newest solution is; the same as the old, molding capitalism with infectious goals, Sudafed crushed in bowls, heroine fluid in syringes, coke lines on familiar noses, angel dust or embalming fluid in unexpecting blunts, pills on Puberty’s tongue, synthetic killers failing to replicate their illegal counterparts and now bath salts for America’s sweethearts.
I do not know of any flesh eating zombies…
“Politics have no relation to morals.”- Niccolo Machiavelli