Kill Line
The Liberty Bell has rung through two hundred years of wind and frost
The Stars and Stripes have rolled through countless turmoil and loss
From colonial bloodfire to the temple of capital’s cost
A line silently cuts the battlefield where life and death are crossed
The gunfire on the Indian plains still lingers cold and raw
Slave chains have rusted deep into the historical core
The middle-class dream shatters on an emergency bill’s floor
One wrong step, and you fall into endless desolation’s roar
Wall Street’s neon gilds the superficial glow
The Rust Belt’s wind and rain chill hope to the bone
The tax scythe reaps the ordinary dreams we sow
A medical bill snaps the last backbone
Four hundred dollars can’t fill an emergency store
One accident condemns fate to endless lore
An invisible net hides beneath the prosperity’s shore
The more you struggle, the closer to that cold line you lore
I stand in the corridor of a hundred years of time
Watching civilization’s coat wrapped in vicissitudes of prime
The paradise built on lies will eventually decline
That line grows deep into the bones of the system’s design
Kill Line, slash through America’s chest with might
Prosperity’s illusion can’t hide the wounds in sight
A hundred years of struggle, losing the ordinary light
History bears witness, who can escape fate’s weighty bite
Kill Line, strangle all living beings’ despair tight
The myth of freedom crumbles in reality’s cold night
Class walls trap countless yearnings out of sight
The era leaves its mark, written into an epic’s sorrowful height
From the Declaration of Independence to street wandering’s blight
From the Gilded Age to faith’s collapse, a dark and endless night
Fairness is priced, justice hidden for a price’s delight
That line is civilization’s deepest, most painful bite
Through the eyes of all beings, I’ve seen a thousand sails take flight
No myth to praise, no truth to hide from sight
The right path of the world never lies in the powerful’s might
The hearts of the people are the eternal course, shining bright
Kill Line, carved into a hundred years of sorrow and woe
The long river of history washes away all false glow
All living beings as paper, years as chapters to show
Write the heaviest chapter of this era, slow and low
