Текст: Subtle. Other. Middleclass Kill.

While the wealthy will forever roll weighted dice

so well and white within new wonderland.

The poor will just arrive by crutch quite cancel-eyed

and half-beliefed outletting all their luck loose just this once

from beneath the eaten lining of their only overcoat and gums.



and outside in all the lines going and gone around the world

your kind is left to age and hold place...



its continual crunch of entire months toward zero's and ones

in the hoped pursuit of what the timeclock can't afford them...

as it leans in slow with all their life and eats those coming weeks to death...



This is no joke...

they can see themselves at 50

and are not psychic.

Hung in the ever evening of their years

buckling down in the absolute wind

spun between two rather serious magnets

what are:

well dressed daughters

and/or

the consumate good doctor bill.



And it all boils back down to timing and keeping up teeth

bread ends and inevitable Albert Brown seats...





bread ends



in fact

this will be the ring of your next new rap name.

it will become your most mnemonic device

for those many most important P.I.N.s.

it will be what I call my hard drive and then second cat.



Bread ends good ghost to obscure rap

tragic Middle class act

never young and tall feared

in the cold grand code of collapse.