[Verse 1: Kommunist Kid]
Violins, background of violence
That sound of giant guns, mad crowd high on dim
Prospects of hiring, facts loud: most of em' nigh on life
Pleading annihilate, the bad they drank the Nile rill
Run off but fire again
Operate under the veil of secrecy
Operas made, bout the deals of d**h to free, mentally a heady breeze
Wanting me to water it down, just be a moderate clown
But the fodder's in town, gotcha daughter's grin now
Din is hottest in sound with an atomic soul
Obama's hope, pales in juxtapose to lottery found
Fording, pop the vitriolic vitamins
Can't afford to be caressed like Vogons coerced by the dying men