Pitted Against Ourselves (EG)
Emily Gilmore
[Verse]
Lord of the cries
Shaking
Rattling
Skulls and spines
Mass hysteria and violence on the ground
In the black sky the masters grin
Black bile seeping out of their rotten gums
Happiness is not scarce
It's extinct
Nothing left but sickness and trauma
A life crawling in the sludge of capitalist waste
Spewing your blood into the pool mixing with oil and plasma
Throats scratch and gasp for air closed
Shut by your mother as father saws off your limbs
Turn on yourself and those around you
Expedite the final extinction
