The bastard was fathered by the chief’s first son,
So we know why the palace delays his slaughter.
The empty buckets carried for heads by the people
We’re afraid to call out…
Our perpetual retro-development is the punishment for our silence.
Impugn your stupid friend!
Privilege led him to these reins he’s incapable of handling,
And now we all pay the price for when the dumb govern the wise.
The king was walking naked when they hailed his royal clothes.
See, a delusional crowd’s applause is worse than no praise,
And to brag on it is evidence of your own delusion.
Would you take today’s appointment to self-improve,
Or would you continue the entitlement and lazy rants?
Would you get intentional about your purpose,
Or would you keep playing small…
Which doesn’t even look good on you—
And which reminds me of our troublesome status quo,
Where substance is silent and gong-gongs are loud.
And we stand in dire need of a shift—
To when value is the only gig that gets the hype.
