Shot dead. Stopped
Flames
Lights
Snuffed out For reasons publicly undefined
Malcolm is on stage tonight
Fred Hampton is in bed doing fine
An unplanned development At the end of an era
A feast of decline
The poor crawling naked
Outside of god's shrine
Put on your preacher's suit
And paint your face on
We're going profiteering
Sing our little song I can feel my blood boil
Burning deep inside like oil At the end of an era
A feast of decline
The poor crawling naked
Outside of god's shrine
Put on your preacher's suit
And paint your face on
We're going profiteering
Sing our little song
The patriots are thirsty
Feed them some PR
We want the young fat ones
To soak up the scars
More stats for the frontlines
A financial war
Economist armies
To deal with the poor Sometimes when you k** a man
He speaks through other mouths
He becomes an army
He arranges a crowd Score another point for the herd mentality
Praise irrelevant myths
Pervert morality
Forced rituals
d**h in perpetuity
Cover up truths
To form your own history Lining up at your door
We won't wait anymore
To break down the Master's house
They say you can't use his tools
But if a tool's the right one
It's the one I will use They say
"Let the small people debate
Hum a familiar note
Watch them salivate
Let the small people obey
Hum a familiar note
Frame the debate"