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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