Head? Chest? or Foot?

Three choices: one bullet. one trigger - guess who gets to pull it - one

leader - a thousand slaves - for every throne there's a thousand graves -

you're all the same - you're all the same - you're just part of their

machine - perpetuate their dream - they subsidize your nightclubs -

and they subsidize your malls - they herd and brand the masses within

painted prison walls - until your freedom of assembly becomes the missles

they create - or just mass delusion dancing to this music that you fucking

hate - but i'm not the same - i'm not part of your fucking machine

- i'll jeopardize your dream - i'd rather be imprisoned in a george

orwellian world - than a pacified society of happy boys and gurlz- i'd

rather know my enemies and let you know the same - who's windows to smash

and who's tires to slask and where to point the fucking blame- one future:

two choices - oppose them or let them destroy us...