Dystopic Phobia

Nothing hiding

In the mists and shadows

But class antagonists

And rich assholes

Who make more poverty

And more mounting debts

Shoving us deeper down,

into the depths

Killing us more, every day

Everyone poor, never enough pay

Everyday, killing each other

Imprisoning my sisters and brothers

I repress my oppression

I regress in my depression

No lesson in making concessions

Your digression, becomes a obsession

Stuck in the past or a dystopia

Suffering from a bad case of myopia

Your vision gives me claustrophobia
Or some kind of fucked up phobia

Capitalist Kitsch

Capitalism is the largest cult

Every member, trying to crush you to a pulp

Work you to death and leave scars

Inject the market, with horrible war

This system, be peddling apathy

I got a wrath that I can’t scratch or see

Lead by fucking sociopaths and moonbats

Can’t escape this poverty trap, king of the rats

Steady exploitation, webs of oppression

Can’t shake away the repression

Invisible hand tight round my neck, I’m choked

Lost in a haze of booze and dab smoke

The essence is to be present

No acquiescence, or forced concessions

Keep to the struggle, only progression,

No estranged relations and alienation

False meritocracy

So sad to see, so much poverty

Sadness in the eyes, of almost everybody

The guises we carry, are so heavy

Regrets need to be buried, be wary

Of getting lost in fantasy and the, delusionary

Tarry favors, your cronyism, and inheritance

It’s easy to walk the tightrope with a safety net

Try living check to check, you’d never make it

Pretend to struggle in the city, you are shit

So later, you can go on, in Salon,

writing about how you toughed it

Just a shitty anthropologist,

in your ethnographic bliss

Got your degree,

pretending to care about the poor and dissed

But you are far too narcissistic
And can produce only kitsch