[Sample]
[O'Brien: How does one man assert power over another?
Winston: By making him suffer
O'Brien: Exactly]
[Intro: El-P]
BK!
Live wire
[Verse 1: El-P]
Yo, I touch with rusted clutch spun out of the dust
And careen into the temples of automated destruct
Nanotech bugs in the blood get unplugged
Fishing for the fly shit hybrid
I run among the mudskipper swarms through warnings in Good Morning Beirut
Little BillyBlunderbuss looking for more recruits
City life is practice, casket truancy
That's the rule of you and me, brash unmasked lunacy
Friends used to laugh fast, grasped little truth from me
Now they check their bags with a staff claspin' Uzis
Who deserves a wrath without warning?
The same sky for the martyr with a spork
Scorch, New York forfeit
Run among the poppy fields order some more clips
Store trips are weird but the fear is forceless
Bloomey bought the city of Lego and shitty metal hull
Jitters to the floor boards, burned, almost aborted
Flight of the accidental tourist: morbid
The advertising Gods so oddly court shit
Godly corporate squads plot these tortures
Holiness is hard and it's costing God fortunes
(Guess he took a second job on the force to afford it)
I don't want a part of these self-fulfilled prophecies
Man it's too much for my stubbornness, I hate the people runnin' shit
Now if you sleep at ground o below, wishing you peaceful sleep
Where horror on the surface emerges less frequently
Metal bars of ancient Rome dissolved from the scenery (now what the fuck)
I'll take a hostage and walk through the mosh pit
Pristine untouched, NB703's unscuffed
Trust is a commodity crushed by Pol Pottery
Your cookie cutter laws contain flaws in philosophy
Toppling down a flight of Escher/Bach steps: delight
Cause the man who raped my sister won't sleep right tonight
Suppose the pretty horses in fours could love more
But I'm exhausted by the scope of this dark God on opiates
Breakfast for dystopia and ruthless hope movements
Seasonal infest of the butchery's lookin' good
And now writer's block is a prison camp where free press regress
Now we can hypnotize the herd
I'm alive with fly visions that attack like Alfred Hitchcock raising rabid carrier pigeons
True the only form of com not tapped is trapped strong
In the cranium of future rebel infants whistling song
I know you're listening, get down with this bitch, whistle along
[O'Brien: How does one man assert power over another?
Winston: By making him suffer
O'Brien: Exactly]
[Intro: El-P]
BK!
Live wire
[Verse 1: El-P]
Yo, I touch with rusted clutch spun out of the dust
And careen into the temples of automated destruct
Nanotech bugs in the blood get unplugged
Fishing for the fly shit hybrid
I run among the mudskipper swarms through warnings in Good Morning Beirut
Little BillyBlunderbuss looking for more recruits
City life is practice, casket truancy
That's the rule of you and me, brash unmasked lunacy
Friends used to laugh fast, grasped little truth from me
Now they check their bags with a staff claspin' Uzis
Who deserves a wrath without warning?
The same sky for the martyr with a spork
Scorch, New York forfeit
Run among the poppy fields order some more clips
Store trips are weird but the fear is forceless
Bloomey bought the city of Lego and shitty metal hull
Jitters to the floor boards, burned, almost aborted
Flight of the accidental tourist: morbid
The advertising Gods so oddly court shit
Godly corporate squads plot these tortures
Holiness is hard and it's costing God fortunes
(Guess he took a second job on the force to afford it)
I don't want a part of these self-fulfilled prophecies
Man it's too much for my stubbornness, I hate the people runnin' shit
Now if you sleep at ground o below, wishing you peaceful sleep
Where horror on the surface emerges less frequently
Metal bars of ancient Rome dissolved from the scenery (now what the fuck)
I'll take a hostage and walk through the mosh pit
Pristine untouched, NB703's unscuffed
Trust is a commodity crushed by Pol Pottery
Your cookie cutter laws contain flaws in philosophy
Toppling down a flight of Escher/Bach steps: delight
Cause the man who raped my sister won't sleep right tonight
Suppose the pretty horses in fours could love more
But I'm exhausted by the scope of this dark God on opiates
Breakfast for dystopia and ruthless hope movements
Seasonal infest of the butchery's lookin' good
And now writer's block is a prison camp where free press regress
Now we can hypnotize the herd
I'm alive with fly visions that attack like Alfred Hitchcock raising rabid carrier pigeons
True the only form of com not tapped is trapped strong
In the cranium of future rebel infants whistling song
I know you're listening, get down with this bitch, whistle along
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