Texty: Dalek. Other. 3:46.

You view my calm as lack of confidence.
I found solace in your type at bottom of bottle.
Volatile soul shall least conform to your corporate world.
Watch as you crumble as this ancient tongue unfurls
I wish to save us all from peril,
But alas i was conceived too late.
Caracas of my culture picked at by you corporate vultures.
I shall stand the granite sculpture....


And sculptor.
Chestplate ruptures upon streets...
pouring blood of centuries.
Shall never retreat.
i speak the truths you wish to hide
As you envelope yourself with your lies.
Try to hide the cries of the babies (and) dear sweet ladies.
i could never let what happened to our ancestors happen again.
You try to assassinate me with your legal pen.
As i speak volumes.
Consumed with this useless prose which surrounds me.
You try to survive this pressure housed inside my mind.
The blind have led the blind for way too long.
The death of you has been prolonged for way too long.
So here is your fucking three-minute pop song!!!