Image for the poem skittles


you put your yoohoo in my coca-cola
we gave birth to count Chocula
he was a bastard born on the wrong side of the fence
we smuggled him out  
jimmy crack corn on my feelings
said he wasn't acceptable  
return to sender
I told him baby don't follow in my food stamps
make a way for yourself sky scraping within your visions
he said, mama, I have a dream
I might work for a clown now at Mickey D's  
but I will have you living on fifth avenue before I die
give me your I own yous  
I know the head wrangler here
and he ain't no worm wrangler trying to lure the ladies
politically incorrect  
fuck it I'm going my own way
I won't be no logo or slow-gun
I may have been born from cartoonism...consumerism
rising through the ranks I will prevail
snozberries are for the snobs
I'm taking Wonka's glass elevator all the way to the top
there is no ceiling to cap me in
let the benjamins speak
hell might as well be talking monopoly money
as long as I'm the top hat
boardwalk is mine
and I'm not selling my railroads
socialite, socialist it's all about hobnobbing for the underclass
but who really get paid in the end?
the fat cat does
this is a new revolution vibe
don't get caught up in the rhetoric
marxism. left party, right party
why aren't the poor people invited?
well that's enough about what I think about politics
it's all gibberish to me
pardon me for not getting it
don't worry somewhere over the rainbow we are all free
but what do I know all skittles taste the same
when you eat them by the handfuls
Written by crimsin (Unveiling)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Carpe_Noctem runaway-mindtrain
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