Eek

The sky cries America.
You've wounded yourself America.
America, thousands curled under busted street lamps feeling empty inside waiting for their fix.
America, Krispy Kreme Tootsie Roll Big Bad Wolf Corporation pinching invisible pennies from the working class who have been indoctrinated - Money is happiness
Money is power
Money is walking down the street in Armani tossing quarters to the poor homeless junkies licking their lips dreaming of their next high,
Money is respect.
America, Money is envy,
America, you've told your children that envy is power, strength.
You've ignored your huddled masses America.
America you've sterilized yourself with smoke stacks, concrete and great iron monsters clinging to your rotting skin.
You don't want to kill America.
Dropping your destructive technologies over hopeless masses who don't speak praises to you.
(Whispers of all your nuclear family ties that you're afraid to think of)
You could rain bombs for forty days and nights, but I don't think it will help, because, as you've seen, it only takes one man to start an army that feels it has nothing to lose.
Not to say you should be tender (with your back broken and thousands dead)
But your mind has begun to atrophy to the point where freedom is just a dream you once had when you were young and the city lights were still stars in your eyes.
There's a cop on every corner and it makes me ill to think of it America.
Your youth is brainwashed.
A thousand carbon copies roam the streets and I wish to think it stopped there but Dave Ramsey still comes on the radio telling me God and Money make a man at any age.
And that's the American dream, right?
America, I think this got a little out of hand.
If I could get up off my couch, I'd start a revolution.