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On the count of three everybody over dose They're coming with forks and knives to eat us alive Victims in this cannibalistic human race or proprietors in this dog eat dog colonization? We s*uts have fattened and ripened in these la castles We rust in the milk we've been fed. With moments left If we stick ourselves with syringes and scrape our lungs with dollar bills We can forge a roof that will hold us in and keep them out Inevitable that the same person that fatted us calves would now feed on the soft parts of our lower backs Rather than humble and take to our knees to the homely we proclaim You cannot buy love you cannot sell feelings Have at me with your most primitive touch Secretaries now make great lovers As do those we had never considered. To a burning empire We were meant to eat eachother. The sound of cracking bones shall be the music that plays us out