Paroles
Three choices
One bullet
One trigger
Guess who gets to pull it?
One leader
A thousand slaves
For every throne
There's a thousand graves
You're all the same
Just part of their machine
Perpetuate their dream
They subsidize your nightclubs
And they subsidize your malls
They herd and brand the masses
Within painted prison walls
Until your freedom of assembly
Becomes the missiles they create
Or just mass delusion, dancing
To this music that you fucking hate
But I'm not the same
I'm not part of your fucking machine
I'll jeopardize your dream
I'd rather be imprisoned
In a George Orwellian world
Than your pacified society
Of happy boys and girls
I'd rather know my enemies
And let them know the same
Whose windows are smashed and whose tires are slashed
And where to point the fucking blame
One future
Two choices
Oppose them
Or let them destroy us
