Sick of the Radio
I’m so sick of the shit that’s played on the radio
Am I supposed to love it? I really fucking hate it, though
The way they go and take a flow and beat it to submission
Is a smack in the face of the paint that’s my nutrition
There’s no haze inside my vision, I know I’m at the bottom
But even from my place, I look up and see a problem
Will nobody come to solve it out of fear for being looked at
Is there anybody brave enough to go and take the book back
A text book road to riches that needs it’s pages torn out
Because the path is common and the pavement is all worn out
When did riches take the scorn out and fame replace the passion?
When did rhymes become a scheme and a carnival attraction?
When did it stop to matter if there’s essence in your wording?
Why do some of these abusers feel they’re always so deserving?
It’s enough to drive me crazy, it’s so god damn unnerving
And it’s even worse to think that it’s never called concerning
Cause if you go about discerning that one rhyme from another
A third will sound the same cause they’re painted the same color
And those of us that suffer are the one’s who love it deeply
The people who obsess about it and love it so completely
Fuck tying this up neatly with a happy beat and rhythm
Don’t ever dance to this but question what is given
Stop taking what I love and conforming it for money
Cause those of us that care only find you sad and funny
Filed under: Poems