The thin line is my anthem
but i heard you worship gold
i'm waiting for the story to unfold
the serpents in the newsroom
have got something on the wire
i wonder what will transpire
when you flip the day
like a beetle on its back +
stuff hundreds into the crack
at the foot of your bed
count your daily bread
like it's worth its weight in dough +
watch freedom grow
inversely
shrink in upon itself
you obstruct my mental health
my zeal
my get-up-and-go
is in sordid disrepair
i know that you're aware
i know you do not care
but i gotta tell
someone
before i drop the newspaper +
reach for the gun
