I feel like Trevor in uk82
****** and full of industrial glue
Breaking windows
And slashing tires
Robbing homes and setting fires
Swazi on the head you don't give a ****
The world treats you like a boot's imprint
Alone in the cell you can't breathe
The warden cries evermore,
And blood gushes from your slashed veins and the littered head of
tyrants
Roll down a hill to hell