Hey Moneyman the crowd is outside. The past, the future and the now is outside. The teachers and cooks and the drop-outs too. Word on the street is they looking for you…
Hey Moneyman they saying what’s the score? And how much blood have you spilled on the butcher shop floor? Those numbers keep running but what they running into? The crowd is outside and they asking of you…
http://roarmag.org/2011/09/a-poem-by-lupe-fiasco-for-occupywallstreet/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+roarmag+%28Reflections+on+a+Revolution%29&utm_content=Yahoo!+Mail
