Life as a normal way of buisness is how we see the world but living is far too expensive and sometimes we all feel like were at the slaughter of the machine to create a life of what we need or want.


In the land of the pigs,The butcher is king.

In the mist of hell, and blackeness of hate.
We see the bad for good and never the good for bad.
Mistake for the weak,but good for the strong.
Life is for the living, it's survival of the fitest.
We walk the streets cold machines, grinding the daily events to survive.
We pray for strenghth and good of people most eat mouldy food.
We need money for wealth, and gold for profit,but sometimes we need pennies to show us what we missed.
Hand outs are not free, blood is a transaction when money is lost.
Innocence is a frame of mind, Peace sells but who's buying?
If you gave an inch,others take a mile.
No matter how you live you eaither have two things to know are sure.
Taxes,death and life is a lemon,i want my money back.
Here you stand woundering is it true?
In the land of the pigs,The butcher is king.



Poetry by Phantom
Read 203 times
Written on 2007-04-21 at 02:50

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