Praying mute prayers;

Prayers of which God refuses to hear.

Speaking life yet swallowing death whole.

Hell's Angel.

Not in JET yet a true beauty.

Not disfigured but with a figure that's crippling.

The crosses on her leggings, inverted to show off those

Death-defying curves like the curve-balls she throws.

Claiming principles that she would never hold.

Proud and boastful, pride in her uniform.

Her children bringing home friends who are hopeful for a better life.

To them, shes's as close to Christ as it gets.

Little do they know, our hope only places us in her grip

And our dreams and plans in her other,

She grinds them into fine powder;

We work for her now, getting paid by the hour.

Our wages never making ends TO make ends meet.

Needs go unmet,

We're working for an endless machine

We're working towards nothing.

God Bless America.