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lirik lagu you whistle, i'll shoot - violent beauregarde

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a dark cloud of avarice hangs above us
small fractions of the fortunate will excel
we can smell the opposition, see the obelisk
you’re america’s sin, so cover up your carotids

(its no use) no use to join the used
(to pursue) pursuit of the american hallucination
(they will not) the aches, i take every nsaid to dull it
(hear you) a feeble attempt to make sense of the automation

waive the suffering they sell
a man pulls at my feathers and coats me in micro plastics
wе’re fast fashion for fascists to wear out in seconds
a tattoo on my tonguе of my time~clock

all these faceless facsimiles
a teratoma’s been growing on the back of our labor
resource~less and wanting
scr~ps going to data centers
while the 1% line their pockets with our decay

an inconceivable aberration
is closing in
expectations of civility
while the voiceless go hungry
is it the billionaires
or the billion errors?
keep your hands on the throat of culture
and begin to clench
reject the suffering they sell
cut off his fingers and drown him in microplastics
fast fascism for the feeble
time thievery abound

burned by the caustic commiseration
living in desperate need of a new liquidation of man

burned by the caustic commiseration
living in desperate need of destruction
of man


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