Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Slacker Uprising?

My bed, my command post

Tracing battle formations in dust

We strike hardest through apathy

Not motivation or hated

Drifting though the system as a tidal wave

Unpaid taxes left in the wake

No more dollar bills to protect them

No hands to run the machine

It was already full of holes

We just filled them with words

Burns like peroxide, stings like a wasp

The congressmen will kneel with shame

That's when you blow a joint in there fucking face

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