Another fanatic,
another NPO,
another moron talking about something he didn't know.
Acting like a saviour,
while stubbing at the saint,
fanning his impurity with egos that are preyed.
Cornered by the future, now stricken by death.
Mother, threatening to give the world my dick.
Friendly by a high ground, by a dirty name.
Incapable of thinking through the plans they have made.
Ah,
here
they come!
Save us from our wicked ways.
Black and white,
genderized under a crag.
Punching down,
punching down,
punching down.
War,
no steel,
salvation for you today.
Don't you think,
don't do what's fake,
don't just do what they say.
Punching down,
punching down,
punching down.
Punching down from the high ground.
Ooh, the action had a fit to us.
Hiding our bothers,
although it's really out there.
The voices are all squatted,
anxious to be decided,
before the push is tasked.
Lights are running vague,
the gloss already passed.
Sound,
face, shape.
Chainset, diamonds, spines, nothing stays.
Line,
mix, rhyme.
No ***, no touch, I'll do everything,
please.
Punching down, punching down,
punching down.
Punching down from the high,
punching and kicking and biting and
fighting and shitting and pissing.
ое