Volatile
Fuck the world, come
They never see me coming
Their faces twisted in shock
Now the fools come gunning
To put our heads to the black
Sick of the laughter
Sick of the pain
Sick of the feeling, the feeling of shame
Sick of the white folks privileged and vain
Protesting a culture that isn't the same
Don't blame the false elites
When Nazi assholes march the streets
So call me a hypocrite call me a fake
It's nothing compared to your pride and your hate
Dead
Dead, imploded
These times are volatile
There's no room left for you
Dead
Dead, imploded
There's no room left for you
These times are volatile
Volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile
This world is fucking volatile
Whoa, fuck the World
You'll never see me coming
Sick of the racists
Sick of the shit
Sick of them telling me it's immigrants
Sick of the phonies on my phone screen
Sick of the NRA trying to scare me
Stop crying innocence
Stop claiming self-defense
Good men won't speak because they're scared of the violence
But bad men keep screaming to fill up the silence
Dead
Dead, imploded
These times are volatile
There's no room left for you
Dead
Dead, imploded
There's no room left for you
These times are volatile
Volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile
This world is fucking volatile
Oh break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Dead
Dead and bloated
These times are volatile
There's no room left for you
Dead
Dead and bloated
Life can be so volatile
Volatile, volatile, volatile
Volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile, volatile
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Break it, smash it, burn it to the ground
Writer/s: Philip John Demmel, Robert Conrad Flynn
