my mind is spinning, what kinda sense im spittin /
the type of process given to smooth out lines and ridges /
to combat vibes and visions, of our demise thats written /
in a timeline predicting, that humankind’s emissions /
wont fortify our living, it’s do or die decisions /
its suicide and skipping, crossing the line thats given /
we make sure ink is dripping, on dotted lines, petitions /
on parchment lined with lives, from forest souls’ existence /
we moralize reform, and celebrate the inches /
when there’s miles beyond, to transform our mission /
seems decimation’s imminent, to murder something feminine /
cuz half the world is reveling, as metal cars burn sediments /
extracted from the peasants in, the middle east’s next of kin /
we colonize the members then, drop bombs on browner men /
instilling fear’s adrenaline, in communities innocent /
The Dini Code 