Long Sleeves in the Summer

bang the piano squeeze the beat out the drummer 
  this ain't your average hiphop, it got no keys to the hummer 
  no prostitutes, glocks that shoot it deals with the younger 
  generation on medication to shut out the sleeping and hunger 
  she needs the pain - her weary arms need to get number 
  scarred so bad she's wearing long sleeves in the summer 
  people wouldn't know what to say so she feels she should cover 
  the shame inflicted by livin in the greediest culture man 
  who wouldn't be disgusted by all the meat and the butter? 
  you could say she's reluctant to eat cus her mother 
  it wouldn't be the whole truth gotta dig deep in the under 
  people fail to realise what I speak on when I utter: 

  generation after generation are being sacrificed, are being sacrificed 
  slaughtered on the altar of a massive lie, of a massive lie 

  play the piano for the innocent children 
  growing up being bombarded with an image of women 
  so sick and twisted and it's mirrored within them 
  because we're celebrating death as the ideal way of living 
  it's so backwards round here - man I ain't even kiddin' 
  she's trapped in her body tryin to fly out from her prison 
  too close to the sun quickly brought back to the harsh reality 
  burned by the cold fire of this world's mentality 
  father could you tell me why she's starvin herself please 
  tell me why she's so hard on herself she's 
  walkin this earth wearin the scars of our hell 
  carved in the flesh of her arms and what next? 
  I don't know what good talkin will do 
  and if puttm her pain in a song will help 
  but I can't go on cus the words gettin blurred in front of my eyes 
  as the teal's start to burn this ain't a song it's a cry 

  for generations after generations that are being sacrificed, are being sacrificed 
  I tell you slaughtered on the altar of a massive lie, of a massive lie 

  cus how you expect me to explain to my little sis 
  when she use her brain ain't no interest they pick her apart 
  till all that remains is a clitoris 
  media keep telling her to change to some bigger tits 
  tellin' her to shut her mouth - paint - and to fix her lips 
  but her smile's a little strained while she slit her wrist 
  because she hates what her belly is 
  that's why we resist and can't get a bit of rest 

  cus generation after generation are being sacrificed, are being sacrificed 
  slaughtered on the altar of a massive lie, of a massive lie 


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