DESCRIPTION:
I see dead people.
Men walking into offices to sit in coffins.
People handed death certificates disguised as a salaries
my peers working 9–5 earning nowhere near enough to survive 
so it’s far from ironic that my bredrin said me that at nights after work she sleeps like a corpse 
sometimes it feels like my city is a graveyard
sometimes I feel like the ghost whisperer
sometimes I feel I’m just watching re-runs of the Michael Jackson Thriller video 
because everybody is dancing and singing like they are alive
but it doesn’t take a genius to see that they are rotting on the inside
it’s easy to say they gave up on life
Because if your just a victim of a system that’s pulling the trigger
is it still suicide?
so early in our lives were forced into uniforms which strip us of our identity
stand in firing lines outside classrooms designed to kill everything unique about us
they did say that good die young 
Abraham is only man I ever knew who was willing to stand at the altar and sacrifice his happiness for someone else 
and even he hesitated
even God agreed that it wasn’t worth it
Let me ask you a question
have you ever played spot the difference between living and existing 
what does unhappiness taste like 
and do you try and brush it out your mouth every night before you go to sleep
and every morning before you head out Monday to Friday 
And does it leave a bitter taste in your mouth on Sunday evenings 
Sometimes making that bread can be a recipe for disaster 
When was the last time you fed your soul
And didn’t your parents teach you to always finish your plate
I think we can all agree that slavery is still alive, and we are just concealing it 
because maybe it’s easier to admit to defeat
the truth were afraid to admit to ourselves 
so instead we carry on digging our own graves
chasing for promotions we don’t really want to hang around necks like medals 
but instead they hang around our necks like nooses attached to glass ceilings 
and most don’t even have the courage to jump so instead remain on an office chair in purgatory 
not living or dying, just surviving.
just surviving 
just getting-bying 
I sit at the edge of this cemetery using my words like flowers 
To mourn the ones we have lost.
but sometimes I feel like flowers aren’t enough 
or is it that there are just too many graves.

Subtitles availiable[CC]

Listen to "The Graveyard" on Soundcloud:
https://soundcloud.com/sulibreaks/the-graveyard

Taken from my new collection "SLUM POETRY"

Stream "SLUM POETRY" on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/album/09kYoOmhtUKFdk4l64jMme
Stream/Buy Apple Music: https://itun.es/gb/Wqj5ib
Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/sulibreaks/sets/slum-poetry-master


Directed and edited by:
info@framework.london

Prod. by Harris Cole:
https://soundcloud.com/iamharriscole

Saxophone arrangement by Marcus Joseph:
http://www.marcusjosephsax.com
http://www.facebook.com/marcusjosephsax
@marcusjoseph7

This piece was inspired by Caleb Femi x Josette - Sunrise:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHRrfkMpehY&t=89s

Help me caption & translate this video! amara.org/en/videos/AxSyUZ7m5sgM/info/suli-breaks-the-graveyard/

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