Arriving with the time waiting
For revival
The time is for China to take its socialist shame
Turn the times to the populace was the same
Truncheon tanks, and the whole shebang, the guy who died
Mao Zedong, Tiananmen Square, Creedence clearly an atom bomb
Away from a bunch of lies, dealing with slaves and something inside them died
Tangled up in memory, tangled up in the blood
Tangled up in a truant sundry, I'm unaware of the inchoate
But, the bloodshed reminds me, of the battleground that hasn't heard from the crying dead
We nurtured the poor, to feed the roads with our public money
Reconnaissance of every remnant individual, timbre, and everything, in an ephemeral second
We blew up in silent thought, without knowing of attacking and arresting atrocities all in the name of a thousand cuts
Cradling civilization, there will be blood, the sun's up on the wrong end of the pursuit of happiness
Numbed by the pain, the sun's up on the wrong of the pursuit of happiness
Tampering the evidence, conclusively ending my progress
Tanks rolled over the ****** corpse, mangling it beyond solidarity
None of us could recognize him
Things were difficult before easy.
The man was a genius when he was dreaming.