Prisons Profit

Prisons profit, peasants plea, but they don’t seem to listen, see

Why should I abide by men when law can make me rich again?

Tell me more about this thing, this concept carved into your ring

Tell me of this thing you touch this, thing you claim that you call “justice”

I’ve created all the courts, they work the way I said they could

If you don’t like it, sorry son, I did the things I said I would

Craft the culture, quell the hate, make them all appreciate

Give them things they did not have, so moral high grounds mine to make

It wasn’t hard, ‘twas easy, see

We just convinced them to believe

We made the masses spill their crimes, cry and beg and then repent

Then hung the guilty with the pockets of the ignorant innocent


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