Romance is my reason,
it was the whisper that conceived me,
the womb that received me,
the light and the push divine.
And I'm a victim of its circumstance
the pulse pulse pulse
and the gravity urges me,
onward, ever onward.
waves of royal purple,
sparked from the contact,
tongues of fire leap,
from a star always burning.
I want you and I'll swallow it,
as a human wrapped in concrete
the weight of these polite boulevards,
hide the wild riverbeds.
And in my head,
is a grand hall of candles,
a bed of warm white sand,
and a skylight above us.

I am North American.
And you can't test my hustle.
Not with a panel of scientists, a box of number two pencils, undoing a bra strap with three hooks, before the fourth and final exam.
Ambition is the race against the mirror,
and judging by shit smeared deluge of celebrity chatter,
we spend way too much time here. Tweet that.
Over on this side of Greenwich,
We don't have time for tea, baguettes or siestas,
I'm so jacked on my dirty chai lattes
I'm reading the news from Tokyo,
translated real time to my iPhone,
cause those mafuckers are so efficient,
they're already in tomorrow,
and I need to get that news yesterday.
Over here, we casually date the time line.
You know why?
Cause we keep shit fresh.
Any new form of music to hit the radio waves in the last 100 years,
yeah that was us.
And we gonna put it on blast, you know how,
the internet,
yeah that was us too.
We have so many internet jacks, that sometimes late at night, in between the planes flying over head,
if you listen real close, you can hear the sound of the new generation fapping their way through an early puberty.
Digital natives represent. And if you don't know what fapping means, head down to the library, and ask the librarian to open up google for you.
Porn is effective birth control. Rss me.
Times have changed, cause we've changed them.
Long for yesteryear?
So do divorcees, but ain't gonna change the fact, that they're never coming back.
Time to move on, peep the technique:
Canada's national animal is a beaver,
cause we bout building shit out of trees,
we'll block a river to do it, and we'll look fresh as hell in a lush fur coat.
It's cold up here, and if you got time to chill, its cause your not moving fast enough.
America's national animal used to be a bald eagle,
but now it's a giant dick.
You know why?
Fuck you, that's why.
The US is about one thing: manifest destiny.
They believe they're number one, and they don't care what you, the UN, the middle east, history or the Pope have to say about it.
They want it, they take it.
Capitalism 101, hey we made this system where our money is the best, use it.
Hey you're mad cause we change the rules to a system we sold you, shut up.
If you really have a problem look up, those are flying robots with bombs on them.
They're dicks, but they don't keep it a secret.
Lastly we have the Golden Eagle rounding out the amero zoo, down in good ol Mexico.
Mexicans bring you tequila, chocolate, salsa, both the dance and the sauce, and tequila.
Mexican girls are notoriously hard to get with, apparently this is justified by the old wives tale:
"Sexy mexicanas skeet candy and pure aztec gold"
Who knows, mexican cartel leaders that's who.
Are you high on opiates right now, God knows I am, largest producer after Afghanistan. Real talk.
Over here in the western world, we're as civilized as a dry gin martini,
We like our women like we like our media,
fast, biased and seducing us to consume,
I'm going to take over the world,
cause my hustle has been refined by a labour market,
that has fondled my balls since they dropped.
Peace.

Sarah, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I can't find the lever behind that vacant look,
the one that I can flip to make you feel safe.
To be honest, I don't think that safe is a feeling you've ever known.
Kidnapped and violated, belittled and confined,
Forced under a heavy thumb to sit at your desk,
to swallow and endure the abuse,
while strangers chipped away at your humanity,
attacking your culture like a virus would do.
Sarah, I'm sorry.
I can't imagine your relief, when you were finally released,
only to return home, to find the fire in your families' eyes,
perverted to scortched earth.
The final act of a cruel, cruel war,
waged against your beautiful spirit,
when you were forced to hang your head,
when they robbed you of the strength,
you needed to hold it up high.
Sarah, I'm sorry.
I don't know when you left that place,
I just know that you ended up here,
To lose yourself in the alleys,
To lose yourself in the bottles,
To lose your heavy conscience,
If only to glimpse a break in the rain.
Sarah, I'm sorry.
This war is never over,
That brown envelope found you here,
Those slippery fucking numbers,
That your attackers call an apology,
But thier money is another weapon,
And its keeping you sick.
Sarah, I'm so very sorry.
There are crack heads in your room,
And they are hungry parasites,
they are calling you mother,
and they are lying,
but you need a community,
and you're too drunk to know it.
Sarah, I'm not apologizing,
for your tough life,
for this conquerer come bigot fear laden society,
for the hole in your heart,
Sarah, I'm sorry,
Because I want to cry with you,
Because I want to tell you my stories,
the ones that remind me of love,
and I want to do it forever,
but I won't.
Because even though I'm holding your hand right now,
and your looking at me through tears,
I belong to the meek,
all of them,
and for that reason,
I can't take off these black latex gloves.