Gimme Burgers, Cigarettes, and Buds

Avishek Sahu
October 14, 2016

Onto the mantle, set up to clear through the rut
Frozen from chaos, that was built up to tear through the hut
It won’t be so easy, to bring on the light of the day
That was stolen from workers, toiling to keep slime at bay
Lofty and drifty, the flowers that shine through the light
Craving for filth storm, that wipes all the class and the might
But it ain’t no given, that the homeless that walk through the streets
Won’t rise up in big arms, and jive to the rhythm and the beats
For the white that you show off, is just a splinter of the bust in progress
To get the black out of doldrums, and mock your little news-byte digress
So don’t give a fuck for fine dining, don’t give a fuck for lucifer’s duds
Gimme Trump; gimme burgers, cigarettes, and Buds

Kick off a storm now, kick off the stink that we brook
Kick off the snake pit, to showdown the thug and the crook
Won’t be no respite, from the muck that was spilt in the rush
The rush for sweet victory, and the hooker’s benighted first flush
With the yellow all stolen, you thought that the war was all won
Now hold on to your horses, while the baddest devil’s undone
Undone from the fright past, that he holds on more dearly than life
A life that was seeded, when the pawns of that past were all rife
Rife with the distress, that comes from their duty to hold
The promise of the spirit, and his call to stay true or die bold
So don’t give a fuck for fine dining, don’t give a fuck for lucifer’s duds
Gimme Trump; gimme burgers, cigarettes, and Buds

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