with each twist comes the tongue tied arrogance of a western third world, will we forever surrender to this animocity of one human being to another? i flow with words, i can't say words of truth because every victim is a liar suffering with people shouting "POWER" then turn around and feed off the plates of luxury. my molding cream molds in the faces of all those sisters in poverty and my brothaz on the wagon... again. like my father, i never thought i was apart of religion until like a hypocrite, i found myself saying glory hallelujah at the altar.. they say you'll never get to heaven if you lie but that in itself is... a lie. how can the kettle call the pot black when the pot is a metallic stainless steel? stainless in terms of we will never be stained by the sauces of society, i don't know, maybe i don't make sense when i write but it's true that expression is just your two cents worth of life and this: this is my 50 cents spent to make you realise, that dreadlock ain't got no colour, just the twists... that get you caught up in the tangles and thorns, of your miserable lives. hey family, i'm feeling like a stranger, and it's wrong so i'm sharing and will try to keep up! much love all of you!