under the thumbs of the powers that be
they don't give a fuck about you or me
we are all just collateral damage
the shit they step in on their way
just puppets used to their advantage
to chew up and throw away
i won't be your whipping boy
this is me declaration of war
no longer learning how to live
we're learning how to die
i recommend we battle to the bitter end
illuminati of the one percent
we chase their carrot on a string
wall street deceit all stuck on repeat
peons serving to the kings
to them it's all just a natural selection
a birth right of gluttony
like a kind of immaculate conception
street punk makes a fatal mistake
dared to look him in the eye
just another violent confrontation
murder in the first degree
do more time for petty larceny