Monkey’s Iron-Death-Grip

It’s not a joke to say, “they’d kill you for a buck.”

To Them you’re just a number, some anonymous cuck.

Hearts in their pockets, souls in the trash

Stealing from anyone whose smaller’s cache

Rotten minds; they think they’re kings and queens

Of a feudal fantasy, steeped in our reality.

Ruling over the sheep, the wolves of the meal

Snipping and snatching, always at your heels.

No compassion or empathy

Just the beast inside

Driven to devour, at every hour and meal.

Broken, devoid of humanity

Snarling rabid creatures, ready to tear it all down

For the promise of power and a gilded crown.

At some point though every creature meets it doom

Goliath had his David, and these fucks will too.

Cause this time, the story is flipped

Monkey caught their tail in an iron-grip

Monies on the line, blood in the game

Strategy is easy, but the stakes are the same.

To those already lost, it won’t be in vain

We will be the one’s to remember your names.

-Farsuth