you’ll die alone with your fear of change your fear of difference, your fear of truth. you’ll die alone after murdering your brothers while setting-up your guillotine. in god you trust so your sisters you rape. 2000 years doesn’t seem to have changed a thing. you feed the machine with the blood of the poor. you keep the kids in their place by keeping the drugs on the streets. some will never have half the chance we had: a roof, a family, 3 meals a day. but still we ignore how lucky we are not to have been crushed by the machine.