There’s something wrong with the world and their thoughts of poverty.
And property.
Classism rules the world.
But I will be the one to change your mind.
We are all the same.
If no one had money we’d all be the same.
Plastic hair.
Plastic skin.
Plastic stomachs.
The genocide of the intellectual.
You wearing prada and your fucking brand names.
We’re all the Same.
We’re all the same.
With all the people in the world today
There should be someone to lead that knows what to do.
The FBI.
The genocide.
Giving us our false hope of what is normal.
And when you in that five bedroom house
Have an electrical fire
And the Motel becomes you’re home
You’ll be able to thank me .
At least you have your bank account.
Walking towards the far unknown
Living in the spectrums of your sound.
Giving the lesson to the masses.
We’ll cut the electric bills down to none.
Self destruct through power.
And hunger.
World of unconciousness
Living in the spell of puppet workers.
Step by step by step.
Walking towards the slaughter house in a single file line.
Breaking the barrier of what can be
And what can’t be.
Heaving and sighing through the forcefield of
The blind.
The deaf.
Opening the minds
Of duplicating uniforms filing away at the rocks of
Dangerous minds.
Teaching and delivering to the ears of tomorrow.
Giving it away to all the white power.
Hating and debating
About the music we listen to today.
So fuck you.
Censorship challenges my thoughts.
Cuts out my energy.
My flow.
Floating through the planes of your mind
Caught up in a net
Equals of all mind calluses.
