The Skinning of The American Dream - Part 1
Where Slavery Became Common Amongst The Common
Within America, in the land of the brave and the veritable nation of freedom, there resides the biggest industrial slave-labor camps ever to populate a country. The regional county is called work-force within a village called, The Prison of Hope.
Where dreams have been erased and men’s will power has been stripped.
401K Slave Trade
When stuck on a highway once, stitched with over 17,000 slaves lined up in a row, stuck in their cars and waiting to begin their nightmare, I unrolled my window once and asked the slave next to me, what is work to you? When stuck on a highway once, stitched with over 17,000 slaves lined up in a row, stuck in their cars and waiting to begin their nightmare, I unrolled my window once and asked the slave next to me, what is work to you?
His answer made me pull my chin. He answered with, “Work is only work when you wished you were somewhere else.†And so it goes.
Each morning these dead-heads with lost dreams inch ahead, slave style, tied by their golden 401K shackles, sipping their lattes, like a herd of cattle (add the ring in their noses), looking numb, as they solemnly point their $3 per gallon horses in the direction of their self imposed prison camps. Their dreams are held hostage, their hope has been arrested and each one is expected to mast their quarters by 0900 and that’s just the Sheep.
Highway To Hell
And their Jailors get to their Prisons even earlier. Because the Sheppard’s who HERD the sheep are expected to meet their posts to the ringing of the eighth bell past midnight. Which means the bosses have to leave their slave quarters and begin their highway into hell by five thirty a.m. That’s early. Very early.
Within America, in the land of the brave and the veritable nation of freedom, there resides the biggest industrial slave-labor camps ever to populate a country. The regional county is called work-force within a village called, The Prison of Hope.
Where dreams have been erased and men’s will power has been stripped.
401K Slave Trade
When stuck on a highway once, stitched with over 17,000 slaves lined up in a row, stuck in their cars and waiting to begin their nightmare, I unrolled my window once and asked the slave next to me, what is work to you? When stuck on a highway once, stitched with over 17,000 slaves lined up in a row, stuck in their cars and waiting to begin their nightmare, I unrolled my window once and asked the slave next to me, what is work to you?
His answer made me pull my chin. He answered with, “Work is only work when you wished you were somewhere else.†And so it goes.
Each morning these dead-heads with lost dreams inch ahead, slave style, tied by their golden 401K shackles, sipping their lattes, like a herd of cattle (add the ring in their noses), looking numb, as they solemnly point their $3 per gallon horses in the direction of their self imposed prison camps. Their dreams are held hostage, their hope has been arrested and each one is expected to mast their quarters by 0900 and that’s just the Sheep.
Highway To Hell
And their Jailors get to their Prisons even earlier. Because the Sheppard’s who HERD the sheep are expected to meet their posts to the ringing of the eighth bell past midnight. Which means the bosses have to leave their slave quarters and begin their highway into hell by five thirty a.m. That’s early. Very early.
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