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Because even shadows have shadows

Someone mentioned a rapper named Juice WRLD freestylin' for an hour on Tim Westwood, and it got me searchin' for the original Juice; which then led me to Eyedea -- where I found an old video that I'd seen of his, Even Shadows Have Shadows performed live a'capella.

And which then inspired me to write this lil' piece:

# because even shadows have shadows

trying to back pedal through a bad storm
neck caught in a lasso - arguing with fascists
passing off Gestapos as a natural
reaction to canaries caught in caverns
singing capitalism's a cannibal
as the captains jump ship 
turning red bulls into cannonballs
with wings, 

then flyin' off to private islands
like neverland was never impossible
you're just not supposed 
to believe in humanity

See they told you to never stand
so you would never believe
that the pattern's bent,

now they got you trying to breathe
diseased air out of an industrial sized
sewer-pipe with a sign above
reading clean air for rent

diggin' for change in your pockets
just to get another breath
like you don't dream of release
every night screamin' in your sheets
for someone to turn off thoughts

mama was supposed to come home
and wash away the godless
but now she's locked up in the closet
while the devil's sits at the kitchen table
loadin' up glocks for fun

you punched a clock and never noticed the blood
sayin' you'd leave your mark when the day was done
but now the night has come
and you've got no where to run

because even shadows have shadows

so there's no where to hide
when the angels take off their masks
and they're just demons in disguise

God's dead without an alibi
found an escape route 
from his own creation

left us as reflections 
of an insecurity complex
caught somewhere 
between disappointment
and misdirection

while goddess wrestles specters
of what should have never been
but ever were -- the vision blurs
decision's cursed, 
positions purchased

by barons with mission to work
every penny out of your misery 
(that they can)
like sweat producing tears
is just another nectar 
to milk for profit, and pleasure
A sure path to eternal pastures

singing praises to rhetorical questions
hymns written like ledgers
where the bottom line reads
as a eulogy for everyone

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