I was drafted a sacrificial lamb to a god that didn’t exist-
And if he did exist, no one knew his name-
I stood there, frozen, in front of a man who drafted me with an empty chamber-
I was one among many insignificant lambs,
To be sacrificed without purpose or plan,
Waiting for the F bus in front of Au Bon Pain, by a man who held an empty chamber-
Why was I shook-
Pissed off at the god that didn’t look my way-
Fear pouring off my face-
Saturating by backbone-
Causing my posture to droop, dripping onto my overdue library books, by a man who carried an empty chamber-

It was the look in his eyes that spoke…

Welcome everybody to the world of A.K.’s-
Bazookas paved the way-
M-16’s running rampid-
Wreaking havoc where they haven’t-
Static breeds click-clacking-
Slap a clip in for the active militant who hasn’t planned out repercussions for any of his actions-
Delusioned to blast sons and daughters in the backend of the café-
Insistent only this mass sacrificial act can grant him his long overdue right of passage-
Might as well leave these strategic warfare tactics in the hands of itchy trigger finger crack-addicts-
Freshly set free from a nine-week detoxification rehab and strapped with semi-automatic shotguns –
Saw it off–
It ain’t about living –
It’s not being soft-

Evolution is the name of the game-
From the reign of the tech, Beatnuts, Beatniks had it right from the jump-
To the way of the gun-
Shogun samurai swords slashed through the flesh-
Hold the hilt of the metal right stab in the chest-
But cuttin’ won’t cut it kid, we gotta make it quick-
Now skins explode with deafening sickness-
Bless me lord, word to death, cause that’s all I have left-
And the faster I crash, I burn that much less-

So the fact of the matter was he toted a loaded gat-
Strapped with C-4, head to toe, front to back-
And 3 high-powered grenades clipped to his hip that detonated on impact–
But the reason he had me shook was because he had an empty chamber~