Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Radio Station




This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio


We now interrupt this broadcast, 
to bring you a special message about the forecast, 
Wait, you got hear about the president
And every place he is be presented
He was in church then went for fundraiser
The violence prevails then after
Before it flooded with a messed up update on forecast
They call it the number one station
The state- runs radio station
Not any good compared to a gas station
The new I hear is all about pain
Over again over again and over again
the roads to peace are closed, and the traffic's on the war paths, 
The only thing said good is the president
The rest is all darkness that is presented
We need bail from the IMF, floods are killing
The riots are killing the hunger is killing
And this goes all over again, day in day out…


This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio


You're now tuned into hours of false,
The songs played are the ones you heard the past hour 
Frequency of fear, keep you locked right here, 
You forced to just think inside the box.
The songs you heard never change limited to that
The talk shows never help,  they all talk of shit
Girls having abortions, and preach sex all day
And hope you never leave this, never be a leader, 
When have sense, the silence you
The shut the mic on you
Then we back to the president
His visits, the fun that he makes and present
The traffic is getting worse, brother died in his car
An accident on the highway, a tanker falls off
And this goes on and on, all over again
Then shit I remember this is a state run radio
So there is no hope that comes our way from it
The presenters focus on what kills us


This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio


shit is just the same, nothing changed
I have grown my son, listens to the same
I wonder if there would be any change from the same
I did my music; it was never played on the radio
Maybe because it was not so misleading
Coz all they play in the stations is misguiding
They may have plugged off the MIC on me
But they can never kill the skill in me
It burns like wild fire; it’s like an oven door in me
I blaze still like a furnace, can never die in me
They will interrupt the broadcast
And talk about the forecast
Before you know it, something bad is in the forecast
Either it’s the rains for fall cause some floods
Or the heat to burn and dry up the land
They never give a chance to the positive to play
And the next thing is the president and his visits
Over again and over again, I got to wake up from this…

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