Dear Mr. Revolution, Mr. Revolution, why'd you put ur gun down and stop shootin'? Ur Marley without guitar without dem bullets U shot not deputy but faced persecutors Their judgment jeopardized ur whole future Angry temperament – too quick to pull the trigger Live wires can't fit as societal members Choosin' acceptance in exchange 4 ur weapon Tradin' a hell battle 4 a taste of heaven No more rallyin', no bustin' your clip No more standin' in the trenches in knee-high piss Ur tryin' to live without risk Like men with condoms in their back pockets U once defended those who can't escape high risk Tellin' girls a knee to the nuts is great protection U no longer serve the proletariat Sellin' out ur duty like concert tickets

The Power of Ink Blankets are heaters where I come from; Pens bring Peace. Gas bills climb past infinity light and electricity climb Mt. Everest forcing homes to enjoy aromatherapy where I come from; Pens bring Peace. Phones leak rumors of lies and deceit, tales of the strong and the meek and life and death from the words we speak. Light posts tell stories of babies that lived yesterday as they adorned with flowers, teddy bears and balloons. "Don't play in the streets," they advise, "Don't play in the streets." Where I come from, one slip up could mean a baby in your arms, lung cancer, or a pink slip from your job. Where I come from affliction leads to addiction which usually causes violence opening the door to imprisonment to places like Riker's Island; Pens bring Peace. Where I come from, we don't fear gunshots, drive bys, death, and stabbings; we fear God's wrath that comes in the form of Aids, HIV, and generational curses we inherit from our daddies. Pens bring a peace of mind to a people in a world where bombs rain from the troposphere; where greed, hate and envy combine with nitric oxide and sulfur dioxide to acidly rain invectives far and near. Homes which are built brick by brick with corruption, cars which run off the economical, renewable resource of jealousy and careers pursued to satiate gluttony disappear as you write your own reality. Ink bandages your broken home as you write both parents into your script. Ball point, felt tip, or fine print; you have a choice to pick. There are no more coming out celebrations or desolations because naturally everyone accepts you for who are. Where I would come from in my script, the public transportation system is magnificent, no one puts 4 dollars per gallon in the tank of their cars Everyone is honest. There are no killers, tricks, or thieves. And most importantly you do not have a sign a prenuptial agreement after you get down on 1 knee bearing your heart and soul in a ring. Pens bring Justice. Families destroyed by inconclusive evidence, to have their families sent away for life sentences, are now replaced with family gatherings in public parks with mucho picnicking and frolicking. Churches stick to the bible, Showing how much God loves you instead of constantly condemning you for your short-comings. Pro-athletes get paid normal salaries Models are no longer worried about calories, and Celebrities become extinct as they are seen for what they really are - unnecessary commodities. Communities develop more child prodigies, equipping urban and poor schools with adequate books, teachers and technology. In the world you create, you birth serenity. Carved from the apple pie of hope serenity relieves the souls of youngsters and adults who are afflicted victims tinted and tainted by tension who fain for the noose of a rope. Carved from the demise that comes from the noose of a rope pens relieve the hearts of youngsters and adults who feel that no one hears their cry for help, harmony and hope. Bring Peace Sometimes a journal is all we have Peace Pens bring When the world does not hear us Pens bring Peace as they outline the life we plan to have and the past we plan to leave behind.