Force fed more than we eat in the wild

Grazed on a mash that can suffocate a child

Bloated, promoted in an ode to pomped style

Moistened in the feed while we’re choke upon the bile

Corner in the market on the geese without the bones

Hushing out the public in a strike without a drone

The cage became collapsable

Our sticks equipped with stones



Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone

Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone

Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone

Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone

Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone



Hello motherfucker

My lover

You saw it coming

Goodbye motherfucker

My lover

You had it coming



Set aside the scruples in a stratagem of strain

A smallpox-laden blanket, invisible with stains

Inoculated bastards, bloody pecked pain

Distemper has a hold, distemper has a hold

We took the second sip from a cup we made of bones

The first it was a ruse, a trick so aptly thrown

The truth is that our youth was a carpet laid in stones



Get the mother fucker on the phone, the phone



Hello motherfucker

My lover

You saw it coming

Goodbye motherfucker

My lover

You had it coming