We're in hell Can't you tell? No you can't You only listen to the teller All other voices are drowned Because he's a yeller For the useless things we're bound That fill up our cellar And our living room turns into a dying room When the seller is the jailer And salvation comes from tailors Who can cover up the pain inside With all the comfy clothes we buy
Money is the blood of our society It's circulation provides oxygen But we spill money into spilling blood And we're funneled into killing love So we can concern ourselves With people not getting things they don't deserve Rather than people getting what they need Our blood starts clotting In the fortunate arteries As the rest of our body goes numb It seeks medicine for healing And drugs become our autoimmune disease Redistributing blood to the suffocated areas An unfortunate recompensing for injustice When the persecutors Become the prosecuted Lives are exploded Like Afghan villages Lives can grow back Like poppy fields
That's the score And it makes me want to score Until ****** drips from every pore And ******* fills me to the core I could just live at the liquor store Where benzos are my father And **** my mother So I can ignore the death of my brother My family is in trouble Our society is in rubble