Art 1

Eighteen

Why do we lay on our backs,
as our society gets raped?

100,000 teenage suicide attempts,
year to date!
Do they need to cry louder,
can you still not hear?

Why do we lay on our backs,
as our society gets raped?

22 percent of children are killed,
before they had chance to breath.
Is there no more love,
for the unlovely?

Why do we lay on our backs,
as our society gets raped?

Another person has become,
dependent to a substance.
Why do we look away,
to those who need us most?

Why do we lay on our backs,
as our society gets raped?

13 million of our children,
lay in poverished conditions.
In a country with such wealth,
how can we let our children die?

Why do we lay on our backs,
as our society gets raped?

Seventeen

Is it wrong to hate,
seeing you happy?
When i am all alone,
your with him.
i have nothing left,
except my self doubt.
Clinging to my inequities,
i drown.

Sixteen

May 5 1993,
horror struck a town.
Three boys lay dead,
beaten and bound.
Hysteria broke out,
like in Salem years ago.
Witches they sought,
from which they sow.
Ideas of a sacrifice,
to please the damned.
Procedure ignored,
the gavel was slammed.
Now they lie and wait,
to their false apprehension.
due to stupid fear,
and superstition.

Fifteen

Define the great lines,
the reality of you and me.
How can we decide our future,
if we cannot see?
Our blind inequity,
has led us astray.
To hate, to greed, to war,
we need you to lead the way.

We lay down our lives,
to the one who lost his.

It seems we are always mourning,
the death of a teen.
We are land of walking dead,
kept alive by caffeine.
What happened to life worth living,
what happened to raw love?
Are we alone in this search,
for the man above?

We lay down our lives,
to the one who lost his.

Fourteen

There is no more compromising,
we are taking back what is ours.
The kingdom of God does not,
belong to you slithering snakes.

We have stood back and watched,
as we were casted out of His heart.
Made to worship the eternal Father,
so lost without his presence.

Thirteen

Throw me to the wolves,
let them devour my flesh.
Watch and point as they tear,
my flesh from my bones.
Laugh as the crows come,
to finish what is left.
Leaving nothing,
but my bear bones.

What becomes of my soul?