Whiteout

My city snorted phoenix ashes, this is what’s become of it

Stayed between in the lines, now their gentrified and colorless

Wanted nothing more than to be than to be loved the way I am

Now they call me uncle Tom cuz I stopped fighting Uncle Sam

I’ve watched a gun jam in party of alter egos

The only true story I’ve heard had no heroes

So I see no reason why a guy would only fight to win

Every game ends the same, box closed, pieces in

I think we keep reachin for the heavens for the hell of it

And tellin God your sorry out of habit is irrelevant

Muscle definition, beit body or brain

Are just the feathers on a peacock both were meant to get you laid

Rain dance for pyromaniacs in a cul de sac

Subtle affirmations of your leaders in a cultic act

Sucks to have to know that there is nothing worth knowing

Armageddon is among and the only thing holy