While the wealthy will forever roll weighted dice   so well and white within new wonderland.   The poor will just arrive by crutch quite cancel-eyed   and half-beliefed outletting all their luck loose just this once   from beneath the eaten lining of their only overcoat and gums.      and outside in all the lines going and gone around the world   your kind is left to age and hold place...      its continual crunch of entire months toward zero's and ones   in the hoped pursuit of what the timeclock can't afford them...   as it leans in slow with all their life and eats those coming weeks to death...      This is no joke...   they can see themselves at 50   and are not psychic.   Hung in the ever evening of their years   buckling down in the absolute wind   spun between two rather serious magnets   what are:   well dressed daughters   and/or   the consumate good doctor bill.      And it all boils back down to timing and keeping up teeth   bread ends and inevitable Albert Brown seats...         bread ends      in fact   this will be the ring of your next new rap name.   it will become your most mnemonic device   for those many most important P.I.N.s.   it will be what I call my hard drive and then second cat.      Bread ends good ghost to obscure rap   tragic Middle class act   never young and tall feared   in the cold grand code of collapse.