Taxi Hell - Show Me the Body, Justin Flammia

Fingers count bills

In front of him

Faces, Benjamins

In this country, he make amends

For his sins, in the war on the port

Tell me how much was the ride

To bring his body back

Was it based on the weight

He sends his bag, money

To his family waiting, honey, daddy

Driving his taxi

Tell me what was the price

Of the casket and grave

Carried by his brothers

Every night is a risk

Skipped on or jumped

Standing by the pump

Holding the gas

Tell me, how big was the hole

They left in the back of his head

As big as his eye?

In death he is blind

Born in Bangladesh

Died in America

Bleeding waiting waiting waiting

Waiting to be married

Tell me, where is the shooter

Hasn’t he already paid in his guilt

Tell me where are the children

Lessons of hate

Lessens this guilt

Lessons of hate

Lessons of guilt

Lessen this hate

Lessen this guilt

Lessen this hate

Lessen this guilt

«They makin' it unlivable bro, they wanna get you stressed out so they can put

you in the fuckin' prison cell, and then they got you workin' in there and they

got motherfuckers buyin' stocks in that shit, and then they got mandatory…

They gotta keep that shit full.

You know what happens to the prison if they

don’t keep it full?

Them motherfuckers get fined bro, they get a fine.

If they don’t keep the

fuckin' prison full, they get a fine… That’s a fact.

And that’s where they

wanna keep motherfuckers so they hire all these assholes and make 'em get on

the street.

And do some crazy shit.

And that’s what’s going on.»