The Body
Harrison Deacon
Throw me under the earth
It's too much to handle
The corruption is in plain sight
Fuck the, rich whites
Heel bruise on the concrete
Lungs filled with black smoke
You live in fear of the people
As you whisper down their ears, when they're all alone
Roads filling, with dead bodies
While we're all left hung out to dry
Screens filling, with carbon copies
As they justify the reasons why
