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...