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Suli Breaks
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The Graveyard
I see dead people. Men walking into offices to sit in coffins. People handed death certificates disguised as a salaries My peers working 9–5 earning nowhere near enough to survive So it's far from ironic that my bredrin said me that at nights after work she sleeps like a corpse Sometimes it feels like my city is a graveyard Sometimes I feel like the ghost whisperer Sometimes I feel I'm just watching re-runs of the Michael Jackson Thriller video Because everybody is dancing and singing like they are alive But it doesn't take a genius to see that they are rotting on the inside It's easy to say they gave up on life Because if your just a victim of a system that's pulling the trigger Is it still suicide? So early in our lives were forced into uniforms which strip us of our identity Stand in firing lines outside classrooms designed to kill everything unique about us They did say that good die young Abraham is only man I ever knew who was willing to stand at the altar and sacrifice his happiness for someone else And even he hesitated Even God agreed that it wasn't worth it Let me ask you a question Have you ever played spot the difference between living and existing What does unhappiness taste like 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 And do you try and brush it out your mouth every night before you go to sleep And every morning before you head out Monday to Friday And does it leave a bitter taste in your mouth on Sunday evenings Sometimes making that bread can be a recipe for disaster When was the last time you fed your soul And didn't your parents teach you to always finish your plate I think we can all agree that slavery is still alive, and we are just concealing it Because maybe it's easier to admit to defeat The truth were afraid to admit to ourselves So instead we carry on digging our own graves Chasing for promotions we don't really want to hang around necks like medals But instead they hang around our necks like nooses attached to glass ceilings And most don't even have the courage to jump so instead remain on an office chair in purgatory Not living or dying, just surviving. Just surviving Just getting-bying I sit at the edge of this cemetery using my words like flowers To mourn the ones we have lost. But sometimes I feel like flowers aren't enough Or is it that there are just too many graves.
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