Three choices. One bullet.

one trigger. Guess who

gets to pull it? One leader. One

thousand slaves. For every

throne there's one thousand

graves. (give or take a grave)

You're all the same. 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

missiles 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 jeopordize

their dream.

I'd rather be imprisoned in

a George Orwell-ian world,

then this pacified society

of happy boyz + gurlz.

I'd rather know my enemies

and let you know the same.

Whose windows to smash +

whose tires to slash +

where to point the FUCKing

blame.

One future. Two choices:

Oppose them or let them

destroy us