Hung Jury



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Public Enemy “Fight The Power (Instrumental)”





The entire world has lost its mind
When did we compose to culling blind
Shit needs to be said and it is way past fucking time
That someone blows the whistle on the hate crimes they’re committing


By they, I mean the mainstream media
Those inclined to bite your hand and feed it to ya
Know all too well procedure
Build us up then knock us down
Fake news is all around us
And should never be permitted


Sitting ducks are plucked and stuffed in view of public eye
Biased stories told with lack of cold hard facts, then privatized, cut down to size, replaced with packs of lies
Selective in their presentation
Anything to rile a nation
Open to their sick persuasion
Shift some rags, accept those pats on backs and dodge their taxes like the next man
All the while, encouraging damnation


We possess our own minds
Yet, they poison them with ink until we think we’re justified in towing lines unjustified in gross design
Suddenly, Liam Neeson is a “murderous racist”
Just because they spread their bile across the tabloid pages
Not just gutter press
No less than all of those for whom the duty lies to tell it straight and educate
Hateful in their narrow views
Disgracefully, they fake the news
Making it to measure just what’s trending on that day


This is not to say they’re not entitled to their say
Yet, needn’t feel obliged to take for gospel off-key statement
Form our own opinions on the topic of the hour
When sweeteners are needlessly sour
Talk about misuse of power
Jackals closing in, devouring anything deemed newsworthy
Got to shift those units see
Drip some poison in the ear
And watch it spread like gonorrhea throughout entire communities


Considering immunity as coming with the territory
Payrolled to presume and evidently love to groom ’til such a time as they lose interest in the enemy
Lending weight to stunted bloom
Making beds in rooms deprived of view
Requesting we stick necks out, then expecting us to do the same thing too
Judge our fellow-man
With precious little facts on hand and very swiftly on the back foot when challenged to expand on where we stand
Runaway jury with egg on its face
And not the faintest inkling if and when the chicken came


There are predators, no question
However, heinous fucks aside
There’s an ever swelling list of damn good people being crucified
Telling shit not how it is but how it makes for bitter twists
And therefore frittering their gifts to boost their Twitter followings
Borrowing the truth and giving back conclusive proof that the entire free world has lost its fucking mind


The blind lead the blind
Until such time as they have earned enough to give same fucks they gave before they sucked a dick
Don’t quote on that particular statistic
Blame the rumor mill for lipstick


Don’t give these crackers satisfaction
Pucker up for ultra glossy kiss
Use your instincts, make them primal
Take the time
Let nobody make up a mind entitled to


Read between the lines, arrive at very own conclusions
Let piss artists poke at the contusions
They’ll soon learn when one gushes geyser
Suddenly, they’re vaping with their own strain of face depriving atomizer
Choking on the broken dreams of those who since woke up and smelled the bullshit through the coffee beans


The world is waking up, you see
One by one, the pennies drop
This endless nightmare has to cease
Or else, hell does hath fury
Time to read between the lines
Leave the bullet points behind us
Let the monkey feed itself
Become the organ grinders


Work shit out without reminder
Or there will indeed be tension
Don’t go paying lip service and finders fees for facts anemic
Only stacking lack of comprehension
One by one, we’re waking up
Bleeding through the pavement cracks
And should the world misplace its mind
Then how about we take it back


Doesn’t take full-scale attack
Just knowing of the actual crack
Every time the poison drips
Simply turn deaf ear to it
Entitled to their view perhaps but need not choose adhere to it
Jury out to lunch and not about to fall for sucker punches
Suddenly, we’re actioning
Yet not on others’ hunches
Promised land it can exist
Just have to grab ourselves an oar and steer to it


Swearing to the whole truth
Not the morsels we’re presented
Gone on way too long, what say we end it
Delete that bitter tweet
Don’t bleeding send it
Fuck what’s trending
Make our own
Make it known we’re smarter than they credit us
Let the jury hang from its own body of evidence
When the world wakes up and they’re called up on counts of treason
Watch them try to blame on momentary lapse of reason




Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill




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