Found the note a boss wrote for the last day
At the last job wishing well, hoping things work
Out, like the hesitation felt by that CIA asset
When Guevara dared him to pull that trigger,
Missed any vitals, bit his wrist to keep crying
Out, chest shots are rarely fatal immediately
Half way across America, the demolition was felt
Brick body kids' daydream broken by the reality of
Three letter organizations with mutually exclusive
Agendas in a quiet war over increasingly scarce
Public funding for the little things, you know,
Housing, child malnourishment programs, education
Sequestration, solitary, waiting for midazolam death
Used to at least be over quickly, not no more
Slow burn on the state owned metal gurney turning
Blue, hold that image the next time you forget that
Underneath all the artifice, it is all just savages
Progress is illusion, tribesman existing concurrent
Sharing sacred air but only one side feels it, numb
From running after the Johnson's, met at "Welcome
To The Johnson's" over well liquor, cheap nicotine,
Dry mouth that takes over the whole body, been
Seen on the scene dressed in cream and linen, blew
The stack on something obscene, product that was
Bought sight-unseen