Binary Star – Democrazy (Waterworld 3 Album)

I went to the bookstore on La Silky
Kotob Khan was more like a community
The people who worked there became my family away from family
What we shared was a love for books, Islam and our humanity
I went there to read and write to maintain my sanity
As time flew rapidly, fast forward to calamity
The Arab Spring happened so dramatically
The revolution was happening
Democratically
I asked for books that would educate me beyond the flat screens
Shafiq and Amr recommended Naghuib Mahfouz and Galal Amin
Practically, taught me more about their culture
Introduced me to Muhammad Munir and the Ultras
As the Pulitzer Prize winners held their poses, hanging on the posters
New water boiled over
Steam roller
The protesters grew bolder
The revolution was NOT over
I ignored the TV cameras and clamor
And questioned my brothers who had answers
Mixed with stamina
For me protesting was no rarity
This was not a parody,
I stood in solidarity
You could feel the tension in the air we breathe
Amr told me to meet them at the Bookstore and from there we would march with the thousands who took it to the square MC
Equals E
I showed up thirty minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting just to make sure we were leaving
Amr wore the Egyptian flag like a cape, draped
Shafiq was already downtown, but he called and said wait
Soldiers were checking passports and me being from the States might not be safe
So they advised me to go back to my place
My Literary Military who promised me protection admitted what was at stake
Freedom
The thought of my children in this foreign land was the only thing that made me hesitate leaving
The walk home didn’t feel great
I felt like a waste
Foreign,
Sitting in my apartment dormant
Mind racing like Gordon
My friends were out there united
And I felt like I was at home hiding
Helpless
I felt like crying to Allah for guidance
Then I picked up a pen and started writing…
lyrics
Big nation
fist waving at a dictator

Draining power from the generators

The man woman and child, across the generations

Everybody entangled
Crowd under the arid clouds,
but missles raining

Gang banging see the blood and the cripple babies
Poking out a nipple lady
run away, they Lynch and hang’em

They say the system’s changing

Turntables
trigga fingers mixer fade em
But the big stations still didn’t play’em

Bloodthirsty east to wes like mister kraven
Is this Satan? demons waiting on a demonstration

missed prayers
tents pitched in the big square
Welcome to the glitch matrix

They omit data

tick tick tick tick tick
hanging
getting impatient

armed soldiers vs the brick masons

penetrated
tears dangle from the gas wears the ventilation
Get it? get vacant
No more kids playing

inflation, infiltration, causing inflammation

Mr-Mis-Information
Pushing displacement

disc causing discomfort like you piss razors
Instigators teeth way sharper than a swimming gator

not really complicated
ignorant to danger

sometimes the bullets went stray and a couple hit strangers

Modern times like the Pharoahs from the distant ages
It’s an understatement if I told that the shits crazy

It’s really no time to get lazy

Sun rais’em where the Nile is the river basin

Winter blazing but some hearts seem refrigerator

Bin ladens in the city no relation to a bin Franklin

Receive a standing ovation on ya chin greying

Wise said a sword ain’t as mighty as the pen and page is

Revolution in a Facebook/Twitter nation
politicians over the hill,
this more like Himalayas

Lifestyles of the rich and famous

Religious statements from the one who kiss the babies
But their hearts seem rotten like the apple
I ain’t talking where the knicks is playing

Figure skaters
in the palace with the Piston players

different neighbors
Poor people with the pinched payments
Vent hatred

The early birds get it first, hook the fish later

And that’s deeper than a splinter cut traveled by some Witch hazel

Heard it thru grapevine of my temptations
Time to get naked for a minute, bare facts

Dick, anus say hooee
for the pimp players

Licking lips
fingertips
feel shackles on the wrist ankles

The newspapers printin hatred got it mistaken
Propaganda hit the fan
and now the shit stanking

When the camera’s shoot
stars get spangled
Watch the banners get tailored be the first one to get famous

Life’s a b!tch
But some lives can be the Vic,

Michael may be in the pits player

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