The Force Majeure
On shift from nine to five
Then from six to three
Steals the soul machine forever tuning
Class rebellion
Under our noses
The boss is feeding on the living corpses
Their broken backs
Call for us to rise
But for now we'll all just smile and sympathize
Denied movement
Now lost replaced by fear
We ask nothing less then settle for nothing more
Behold the capitalists
Bathing in the blood
Of the working class
Martyrs bleed
Until spoken to
Vultures get fat from the harness coup
Revolution
Another empty promise
Of the leftist elite
Frustration
Another soul is crushed
Under the rulers feet
And as the boot is forced
Into their teeth
Our safety
Is their defeat
Your station has been assigned
Your rebellion is well confined
Tired doctrines
Killing just as many
As the leaders that they decry
Their backs
All well patted
For a job well done
Without
The use
Of their spies
Attention servants
Put down the shackles
Callused hands and drying hearts
Rise up and destroy
The disease that stole your soul
Autor(es): Boy Sets Fire
