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City of Bradford
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I am not angry; I am anger. I am not dangerous; I am danger. I am abominable stress, eliotic, relentless. I'm a breath of vengeance. I'm a death sentence. I'm forsaking repentance, to the beast in his hench men. Armed forces and policemen that survived off of oils and prisons until there cup runneth over with lost souls. That wear over-sized caps like blind-folds Shiny necklaces like lassoes Draggin’ them into black-holes And I may have to holla out to Fidel Castro To get my other brothers outta Guantanimo And the innocence on death row? It’s probably in the same proportion to criminals in black robes That smack gavels That crack domes That smack gavels That smash