Piece Sells...

We taste death every time that we draw a breath
And it don't any get better
No matter how many years we have left
On this planet, we inhabit to wreak havoc for generations to come
We live by the sword, and we die by the gun

The type to shoot first, no asking
I just reload when I'm finished
Watch the light leave your eyes, then turn and ask your wife,
“Hey babe, what's for dinner?”
Because if I'm not carvin', I'm starvin';
You bet your life that I can eat for days
For me, Valhalla is always rising
And my left eye's looking crazy

Just like bulls on parade
We rally with a pocket full of shells
Doing what's right in our own eyes
And you know we love to give ‘em hell
So, I'm not buying in to what you're saying
Because in the end, “piece” sells
Profit margins increasing every year
While filling up school lockers like prison cells

Click goes the hammer, clank goes the slammer
But that homeboy had new Jordans
And Gilbert Arenas was the answer
Because I'm a pro when it comes to this
Catch him slippin' in the lunch line
Bullet wizardry, a masterpiece
My own private Columbine

So now I stand before the Judge
No period to my sentence
A life of run-on pain
Like I was Prefontaine (minus the finish)
Lines drawn in the sand
Crossed every time without repentance
Treated darkness like a friend
Only to find it to be the very bane of my existence
Pushed life to the limits
Until death started pushing me back
Now it's too late for a plea…

Verdict:
Sin is still whack.