How It Seams

Too many broken souls
too many people with holes...in their hearts.
Some trying to start,
Some falling apart,
Because there's no hope left.
The old man's blind and half deaf,
The woman has one leg,
but instead of helping he buys a keg,
or maybe just a 12-pack,
Sits on the street with his buddies and tries to forget,
that night attack.
Where everything changed,
and people were maimed,
And police treated them like pieces in a game,
Senderista or not it was all the same.

And now on with life they sit torn,
begging for money and looking for porn,
(although they don't have to look far,
just head to the nearest billboard,
or the sign in the corner store)
Overlooked and forgotten are the downtrodden,

And who are you and who am I,
to play around with the disguise
that we can relate and we can help?
When we come from a country
where our biggest worry
is paying off
the unneeded things we already bought.

Here, sometimes life stands still,
and people just hope not to get killed,
just want to live another day,
not for themselves but for their family.
For their 8-year-old boy,
who will end up living the same cyclic life,
unless they work themselves to the bone all day,
come home and drink off the pain,
pull together enough soles to pay,
the school whose director has wifi.
Who hired college students to teach for free,
and gives parents a guarantee,
their kids will absolutely earn a degree.
While they pile studnets' hard work in a mess,
treat grades like the teachers' best guess,
forging progress with every impossibly hard test.
Just trying to relieve the educational stress,
but what they really relieve
is the chance of real success, the chance at a dream.

And here we are acting like a blessing,
when really we're just acquiescing
to a broken system of broken promises,
broken hearts and broken dreams.
Yes, that's how it seems,
when your actually in the seam.