Metal Boot
I didn’t know we were made to be fucked
Over, by corps and laws and corruptive slips,
By senile troops in senile ways stuck,
That score and mark corruptive whips.
Stomp, stomp, stomp your metal boots,
Harm and corrupt with deceitful arms,
And sure enough when bruises harm
I’ll buckle up these big black boots.
Oh sorry Mr. Officer I don’t see law,
Examples set by you are those I saw,
Your dirty boots do tread unclean,
I’ll act in ways by ways I’ve seen.
Let my cracked skull open yours,
And beaten rights bruise up your skin,
A broken tooth for double standing laws,
And boot for boot my boots will win.
