[Song] "Thursday"

My friends don't talk about art no more;
they're all too busy trying to settle their scores.
Licking up spilled drinks off the floor,
we all forgot there's more.

My family stopped showing up to the part
where we all stay connected at the heart.
We started hating each other because of what we believe.
Is there no reprieve? Got some magic up your sleeve?

My neighbors just stopped mowing their lawn,
they sit inside throwing bombs at their screen.
They think they've found god in an old, dusty book
but they don't have a clue what that means.

The do-gooders out there ringing alarms,
they setting fires before the fact.
The fuckwads of anger are pulling us back
into the crack where white controlled black.

My friends don't talk about art no more;
they're all too busy trying to settle their scores.
They forgot what we built was built on the moments we had.
Now it's just sad.

THE JB MINTON NEWSLETTER

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