George Metesky
The pencil pushers are the nepotists
Are the oppressors are flammable
My dreams consist of broken necks, burnt flesh, dead bureaucrats
You had me pegged down to my suit
And fuck you shoes
It's called a pipe bomb sweetie
I named this one integrity
I had plenty of time to think
I landed on bombs
All the money in the world can't buy you another day
When you're wired for dismemberment
In the future, I'd suggest not writing checks your ass can't cash
How's it feel to know the dollar you worship has sold you out?