replicator (of futurology) - rabid lyrics
i think my lyrics are getting bored of themselves
verses beginning with the end, dipped with rhetorical questions
a [?], stuck inside a frigid box
gridlocked to the puff of smoke cloaked in a metaphoric bluff
f-ck all these words and stuff, i just want you c-nts to realize that i’ve worked far too hard for the revolution not to materialize
i swear that we’re right on the cusp, make no mistake
we keep pushing hard enough and something’s got to f-cking break
sick of relying on a wage that placates my stagnation
i’m dying on my feet but still ready for action
“get involved” is not just johnny’s catchphrase
it’s a call to arms for anyone fed up with this grim place
desperate to see change for relentless desolate ways
with a pen and a page i’m attempting to make haste
got to escape this place ‘fore i’m suspended in a cage or a wage slave, my saving grace are words on the breaks
self-expression is a vital tool for every human being
but instead we dress it up in pageantry in hope of being the next best thing
the wrong side of the line that separates the equality hauling the supremacy of some
f-cking couldn’t make it up, the satire is writing itself
mortgaging health while the military budget swell
step on the oppressed for centuries and then
we act offended the people need genuine help
and what’s next? a media bias towards liars and tyrants and a marketing apparatus equating apathy with happiness
it would be funny if it wasn’t such a tragedy, a material remedy to a spiritual malady
aggravate our anxiety, monetize our fears and write opinion pieces wondering how the f-ck we got here
the veneer’s beginning to fade, the facade is showing cracks
the whole [?] revolutionaries and watch each other’s backs
‘cause snakes sneak in the gr-ss and it’s worse than just the snitches
it’s a political cl-ss offering [?] and riches
if you’re not careful, they’ll have you [?] the [?]
another death of a salesman or i’m an arthur miller spitter
flows quicker than your average and sharper than you care to touch
subversive material [?] straight from a [?]
no f-cks given, i’m living well beyond my means, f-ck dreams
i stay hungry and feed off my self belief
preach peace to a populace engulfed in idolatry with no idea how monetary policy affects our everyday
wake from your slumber, i reckon you’re caught up on sleeping
we need people to step up and save us all from defeat
the human species is edging ever closer to oblivion
[?] simians no lizards here, just wishful thinking
but the counterculture, if we can’t act when it’s important
i love getting f-cked up but i refuse to ignore the omens
our art has power and those who tell you otherwise are terrified of us and everything that we can publicize
popularizing resistance has never been rewarded
but i don’t want their forfeit, i want their plans thwarted
i’m a revolutionary from the waste down
esoteric visions are getting me paced out
stuck in a [?] to my right, jokers to my left clowns
i just want to f-ck, then i just want to drown
‘cause i’m a revolutionary from the waste down
from the, from the waste down
from the, from the waste down
i’m a revolutionary from the waste down
from the waste down, from the, from the
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