West

west (PM)

city on a hill, great american hope

we dream that one day our activists aren’t under a scope

that our peoples wouldn’t head ov’r yonder, neck wrapped round’ the rope

look towards the west, no need to mope

the bodies under insititutions, hid behind the idea of renewal

you tell me to work harder, while withdrawing that mule

you add fuel to the fire, while we try to ascend higher, when i say my struggles real you call me a liar. 

we’re shot down with words of Division, rhetoric of Everlasting white hope, fear of an Invasion, sweeping the nation, but when you bombard the land, no need to be patient

you control the world, you dont care who in the way

those people in they land better off gone astray.

you bet not try to unite or well send in the coup, leave the nation broken, our pedigree still true

lead your people to water and are “shocked” when its drunk

claiming pure intentions on both sides, unaware of the funk,

your party of elephants showing your true trunk, when we bring up torn history you’ll tell me that ship sunk.

look towards the west, no need to fret

our people below, act as if were inept

as if were subservient to your rule, you must think we fool

other worldly bodies, blood drawn into a pool.

we watch as children and adults alike, murder proliferated, killings have spiked, while you worry about gas, they look towards the west, they see we turn a blind eye and they begin to stress, constant duress but we care about the best, we treat countries like pawns as if this life was a game of chess, bodies piled, but we only care about the west.

we have nothing to learn, although we should study the past

lack of understanding and unwillingness to change, leaving empires in the trash, you say great again, not knowing that it doesn’t last, and glorifying the past leaves rulers aghast.

but were the west, and will always know best, let money speak and don’t care about the rest.

copyright © micah hill 2024