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Brokaw's Broken Promises
The subox has owned me for what seems generational
But I have no Brokaw to break this tradition of tyrannical
Missteps, no spokesman for the forgotten memories that dwell
Within the minds that bleed so close to me, only to find out
No blood has dirtied the patina already glossed over my unfine finish
If the Great Depressed have felt repressed by drum beats of societal war
Let the little battles won be the only complacency worth going down on
Let the oral sexualization of degradation be the only virginity lost
In a world where needy nymph’s and sly charlatans are ready to get native
With the naïve, those impeccant blood thirsty babes of a Toyland
Sinister with Chinese workers, leadful, poisonous to soft lips
We dreadful youth wear premature hearts on an emasculated sleeve
Masking a dislocated shoulder, no straight jackets to impress
The lethal weapons of the die hard leeches that separate us,
Piecemeal, until dinner is served and what is left is the bones
Of the gentle, the quiet, the reserved with no reservations
To this feast for the gluttonous personalities all surrounding
