We are all breathin
Or are we just breedin
I swear, it’s misleadin
Told to give creedance
To heathens
Fools in stove-pipe hats, demons
Put the money in their pocket silently
Sign above the dotted line, agree with me
No more resistance for the blind, violently
But you must oblige him, see
The purpose of your coin purse, is
To buy the things this man makes his biz
The wiz, of commerce and production
Manufactures the american dream, mass destruction
Easy trucking, he puts a blindfold on the people
Easy bucking, throws a tarp on the church steeple
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