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"Bury Me While I'm Still Living" by Kinetic Affect
It has been a long time since I’ve looked back at where I came from.
Sometimes I’d rather move on
And ignore the past
That gave birth to me
Like a child from an unwanted,
Drug addicted mother.
But no matter how far you go,
Your roots always call you back.
See, I hadn’t seen my best friend in nearly ten years,
And he was recently released from prison.
We sat across from each other
Like two men from warring countries,
Separated by a table and a decade
A tattoo of an angel wing on my shoulder,
A swastika on his neck.
He caught me looking
and didn’t say a word.
He didn’t have to.
He did what he felt he had to do
We all do sometimes.
Just some of us get caught up in it so much
that we forget to live,
And move on.
But there we sat without words,
Waiting for the other man to break the silence.
That’s when he gestured to my tie,
And like some Greek oracle,
Saw past the dress coat and my smile.
That’s when he told me
That I’d never be able to escape
Who I was,
No matter how hard I tried to dress it up,
Or mask it with the cologne,
We were woven from the same cloth,
We just ended up in different places,
He called me thrift shop,
Like I was refurbished material,
Borrowed from something lower class,
And made to look nicer than it was,
Second hand goods with a higher point price tag.
He said I shouldn’t forget where I come from,
That underneath it all,
I was still a rat from the city sewer.
A kid from poverty,
Who was never going to be the jock on homecoming court,
Who didn’t have the money to make it big.
Just the right combination of brains and brutality
to squeeze water from rocks,
And it made me loosen my tie to hear it
To make room for a pulse that lie buried underneath
Like an old persona coming back to life.
And I hated him for resurrecting the dead,
I hated him for being a reflection of me,
The me I would have been
If I ended up in the animal factory,
See it’s suffocating you he said,
Pretending to be this clean cut,
Straight laced executive;
when you’re just a criminal,
the kind of man you’d avoid now
if he was walking toward you down the street,
see this is a mirror,
because we’re the same man
Ain’t nothing but the noose they use to keep you in line,
That black coat
It’s the same one you use to wear,
Just this one ain’t leather,
And your hands are still hard.
There’s not enough lotion in the world
To wash away your sins,
And I bet you’ve tried.
Lied about your past and dug yourself a deep grave
To bury your old self in,
But the truth always rises to the surface,
And one day everyone will see you
For the brutal banger
You used to be proud to be,
And not this business man
Mock up bullshit fantasy.
You should be proud of your roots,
Of the hands that used to be fists
That did more than perform poetry.
You pounded out judgment
And cried into the streets
Without the fear of who’d hear you.
But I guess you don’t need that anymore.
When you went college bound
You left us in the dust,
And traded in the block for your books,
And maybe Detroit didn’t miss you that much,
But I did.
All 11 years I spent in prison
Serving time for things we both did
Because we were more than friends,
We were soldiers in arms
In a war against
A system that took away our childhoods,
And underneath that fancy walk and talk
There lives a battered child
Of the streets,
Who still finds comfort in the gutter
Where he used to play,
Because I’m not going to tell you its okay
That you left me behind,
That you gave up your friends
For your own future,
Because I think you could have showed me
All of us
How to survive without
The Aryan tattoos and false brotherhood,
You could have been the voice I needed to hear,
Late at night in my cell,
When all I could do was listen to
the sound of my heart
Need to be okay with what you’ve done
And where you’ve come from, brother,
Because if you ever want to be a hero to those kids,
They need to know there was a price to pay,
And that there still is,
That with great power comes greater responsibility
And no hero is created without one day becoming someone’s villain,
Take with you the memory of a man
You left to rot in the ground
With five of your friends
Because you couldn’t stand yourself
Enough to give that child a second chance,
So take this to heart,
And take it hard,
You’re never going to fit in,
That was never your path,
You can’t just take part of who you are
And throw out the rest
You gotta love the beast in you,
As much as the man,
So when they finally rest your body in the earth,
They bury you next to your roots
And place you under the concrete you used to walk on,
And it will read
“Here lies a man
In a suit and a tie,
Who thought he could escape
The past that gave birth to him
But no matter how far he ran,
ended up back in her arms,
still nothing more
than the dirt
he is buried in.”