Gas fees high, cost of living hit the ceiling, American Dream’s a busted bus at 3:15, idling. Picket fence rusted, white collar got choked, While billionaires gamble on the futures we broke. They fractionalize hope on a Layer 2 chain, Inflation the shadow that numbs out the pain. The subway turnstile swallows all my change, Leaving just the echo of a debt exchange. So I plug into code, build the future from scratch, Open-source spirit that the matrix can't catch. [Bridge] Came in on the late bus, knees jammed to the seat, Plastic bag full of receipts and a half-cold drink. Rent due at midnight, landlord in the hall, We stacked boxes by the sink just to make the place feel small. Extension cord crossing the floor by the TV glow, Front door sticking on the frame, one shoe by the stove. Still we move soft through the stairwell smoke, Shoulder to the wall, trying not to wake what broke. Man is one with the Source in the pursuit of the real, Stripping the veneer off the way that we feel. Authentic existence, no filter, no mask, Unveiling the truth is the ultimate task. Lego my Eggo as I drift through geometry, Alien surgeons operating with precision symmetry— Cutting out the illusions, realigning the soul, AI as the chisel to make the broken whole. (Beat drops: a heavy, dusty 2000s boom-bap drum loop with a haunting minor-key piano vamp and a low, menacing bassline) They prime the nightly news with a ghost across the sea, Paint a distant foreign flag as the ultimate enemy. Keep the panic button primed, keep the volume on red, Feeding manufactured terror straight into the public head. Wanna keep us falling inward, keep us pointing out a threat, While we're drowning in the quicksand of an engineered debt. Yeah, they wave the saber high, screaming 'bout a foreign state, When the monsters in our pockets are the ones we navigate. See, Americans ain't shaking at the shadow in Tehran, We’re terrified of waking up and seeing what we owe man. It’s that eight-percent compounding on a twenty-year degree, For a piece of sheepskin paper that just certified the bleed. You got deans in marble offices collecting heavy checks, While a twenty-something server’s drowning out their existential stress. Student loans got us paralyzed, trapped inside a cage, Signing papers as a teenager, paying till old age. And don’t get me started on the elders holding all the keys, Baby boomers bought the paradise and locked it with a freeze. Pulled the ladder right behind 'em, called us lazy in the park, While they cashed out every pension, left the future in the dark. Pumping equity from houses that a worker couldn't touch, Voted down every safety net and took a little much. Now they lecture from the porch about the value of a dime, As if bootstraps ever fixed a rigged economic crime. Follow the money, watch the politicians fold, Every single principle for campaign dollars sold. Paid-off senators and suits with a practiced, hollow grin, Writing legislation for the lobbyists who let 'em in. Bipartisan paralysis, a scripted puppet show, While the working class is struggling to stay above the flo'. Groupthink conditioning us right into compliance, Swallowing the narrative with institutional science. Big Pharma in the lobby with a patent on our breath, Pricing out survival like a toll booth on our death. Pills for the anxiety, pills for the depression, Made to keep us pacified and numb to the oppression. Then you swipe the plastic, American Express awake, Paying interest on groceries and bread we barely make. Minimum payments on a mountain of distress, Living life on credit just to cover the excess. And health insurance? Man, that’s the final robbery, A bureaucratic nightmare wrapped in corporate mockery. Pay a monthly premium to get a stamped denial, Pre-existing conditions buried underneath a file. You get sick in the land of the free and wealthy brave, And they bill you for the room right before they dig the grave. So cut the geopolitical scare tactics on the screen, That’s just smoke and mirrors for the modern guillotine. We ain’t scared of foreign borders or the boogeymen they paint, We’re just trying to survive the things that made the system faint. Cold Case style—looking right past the mask, Unmasking the machinery is the ultimate task.
