Behind a human shield You've taken up your arms An assault without yield You've colonized my heart Bury your intentions And struggle to hold back Prep for retaliation My counterattack You have no power over me I've been juxtaposing All of your prose and your misdeeds You have no power over me It's been an arms race Remaining an arms length out from me Fortified and reinforced She's ramparting her heart And now my hands been forced To tear it all apart With a preemptive strike She had the upper hand When I unleash upon her She will be surrendering to me You have no power over me She's speaking with airs But her eyes betray her once again You have no power over me I've been juxtaposing All of your prose and your misdeeds Please don't stop fucking with my head You have no power over me I'll have you begging for mercy On your knees at my feet You have no power over me Prep the white flags and treaties Because you will be surrendering to me

Everyone I know wants to die Guess you could say we're doing fine We got memes to make us human But we still really want to die Drudging through inhuman sorrow hiding an entire world to gain Should revolution come tomorrow we'll lose nothing but our chains and die another day We're serving salt with degrees and politicized identities Each share in connected lives But we still really want to die Drudging through inhuman sorrow hiding an entire world to gain Should revolution come tomorrow we'll lose nothing but our chains and die another day Drudging through inhuman sorrow hiding an entire world to gain Should revolution come tomorrow You'll be strangled by our chains Drudging through inhuman sorrow hiding an entire world to gain Should revolution come tomorrow we'll lose nothing but our chains and die another day

Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run to It's all been reduced to this Longer leashes from the lapdogs Lapping up their master's spit There's a piggy in the corner Stainin' up his nice brown shirt Feastin' on some unarmed corpses Waiting for his just desserts Nothing can stop us Hang loose, our noose will soon be ready for you Nothing can stop us You can't escape the consequences There is no compromise You will plead to these offenses You will answer to your crimes You stoked the flames of revolution Overworked and brutalized Now we'll see through retribution If fat cats have nine lives Nothing can stop us Hang loose, our noose will soon be ready for you Nothing can stop us

Till the dead soil and watch the green grow Reap the said spoils of the poppy fields below Let's play man and kill god upon god upon god upon god upon god upon god upon... We must keep moving forward We must keep moving forward The machine doesn't function in neutral Watch the progress of the two sun sets We must keep moving forward Check your receipts For another Buick SCUD The machine doesn't function in neutral The machine doesn't function in neutral The machine doesn't function in neutral Our Sunday best is in vestments of shrapnel Watch it clean through an ocean of petrol Devour temples and erect our chapel The machine doesn't function in neutral We should burn the bodies so McDonald's has a lot Where it can sell its crack to the sand people The machine doesn't function in neutral Our Sunday best is investments of shrapnel Watch it clean through an ocean of petrol The machine doesn't function in neutral And if I can smell fear They aren't dead enough

Frostbit by the thermidor Icepick on the study floor It's like we're really separated now By a river of blood Where they found her fast asleep Red sun gleaming Dreaming for freedom with a bullet in her brain Now, what is to be done? Rest in power, sleeping beauty I know we're gonna paint the whole world red Surrounded by comrades and friends We're gonna come meet you At the next epoch of history All the walls are closing in again In service of antagonizing and dividing all our lives Into false distinctions Black and white, we're hitched unto the bridle While the idle brutalize us, Karoshi us til we die Now, what is to be done? Rest in power, sleeping beauty I know we're gonna paint the whole world red Surrounded by comrades and friends We're gonna come meet you At the next epoch of history Now what is to be done? Rest in power, sleeping beauty I know we're gonna paint the whole world red Surrounded by comrades and friends We're gonna come meet you At the next epoch of history

Kautsky, as the representative of the so-called ‘Marxist Centre’ or in political terms, the theoretician of the swamp Has for years degraded the theory, in fact, into the maiden of the bureaucrats, And thus contributes all to the collapse of the international. Already armed now with excuses for the breakdown Dear Kautsky, our leader of the swamp. According to this theory, Social Democracy is an instrument for peace but not a means of fighting war. Or, as Kautsky’s faithful pupils in the Austrian ‘struggle’, sighing profusely at the present aberration of German Social Democracy, decree: the only policy befitting socialism during the war is ‘silence’; only when the bells of peace peal out can socialism again begin to function. This theory, a voluntary assumed eunuch role, says that socialism’s virtue can be upheld only if, at the crucial moments, it is eliminated as a factor in world history, suffer from the basic mere mistake of all accounts of political impotence: it overlooks the most vital factor. Faced with the alternative of coming out for or against the war, Social Democracy, from the moment it abandoned its position, has been forced by the iron compulsion of history to throw its full weight behind the war. The same Kautsky who in the memorable meeting of the parliamentary party of August Three pleaded for its consent to the war credits The same ‘Austro-Marxists’ (as they call themselves) They now see as self-evident the Social-Democratic parliamentary party’s consent to the war credits – Even they now occasionally shed a few tears at the nationalistic excesses of the Social-Democratic party organs and at their inadequate theoretical training, particularly in the razor-thin separation of the concept of ‘nationality’ and of other ‘concepts’ allegedly guilty of those aberrations. But events have their own logic, even when human beings do not. Once Social Democracy’s parliamentary representative had decided in favour of supporting the war Everything else followed automatically with the inevitability of historical destiny.

She's built her guard up A wall without scale I tried to burrow under And dug myself a jail Every misstep and calculation It doesn't matter anymore There is no miscommunication I know we're something more Because I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips Don't let her catch you catching feelings She'll cast you like a stone Impartial self-inflicted healing Happy to be alone Every misstep and calculation It doesn't matter anymore There is no miscommunication I know we're something more Because I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips I still taste you on my lips

Feeling Alienation Appendage of the machine Rendering no compensation For the blood you suck from me Not a matter of avarice Bed riddled with parasites Incapable of satiating Your bestial appetite Labor Power MASS STRIKE! Labor Power MASS STRIKE! Pig hoof in a jackboot Living his blue life This piggy protected the market And went home to his wife Protecting assets Serving austerity While the blood of the workers Oils up the machinery Labor Power MASS STRIKE! Labor Power MASS STRIKE! It starts at the bit of the bridle It stops at the bit of the bridle It starts at the bit of the bridle It starts at the bit of the bridle It starts at the bit of the bridle The revolution starts at the bit of the bridle It stops at the bit of the bridle The revolution starts at the bit of the bridle Labor Power MASS STRIKE! Labor Power MASS STRIKE!

people come people go it's not if i don't know just wish i'd known some other time fretting from to and fro there's always some place to go if time could slow down for a while if i could be so bold i would escape myself and if i could start it over i would erase myself and if i just let you go i couldn't face myself and if i could live forever i would just waste myself i gave my heart to a reactionary girl and it's broken afraid she'll rot in the great gulag in the sky you crossed my heart now hope to die i play this one all the time and it was worth it all the while though we part i hope to find one day when the time is right you and i in the great gulag in the sky if i could be so bold i would escape myself and if i could start it over i would erase myself and if i just let you go i couldn't face myself and if i could live forever i would just waste myself i gave my heart to a reactionary girl and it's broken afraid she'll rot in the great gulag in the sky

A cliché conversation. Said, "Life is but a Dream". It's not inconsequential or as harmless as it seems. Call it transcendental, call it what you will. The prison of idealism inside a world as real. Standing on your head again Trying to reach some thing in itself Translating our ignorance hiding in Greek: "agnosticism" Counting Neo-Kantians Finding out what amount is right to screw in the idea of light Even though it's true you view in sensory illusions Know that they're induced in minds produced by truth A struggle carried open Outside and in the streets Unending in focus The rape of history So hide your comfort women war crimes and genocide Hide all that you've made happen with future crimes in mind Temporal Dictator "I think therefore I am" A platitude to hold onto But not to understand Standing on your head again Trying to reach some thing in itself Translating our ignorance hiding in Greek: "agnosticism" Counting Neo-Kantians Finding out what amount is right to screw in the idea of light Even though it's true you view in sensory illusions Know that they're induced in minds produced by truth It was a matter of course way before the start There isn't time to lead your horse before Descartes Inner sanctum; septic tank A treachery of images A simulacrum synthesis A genuine designer fake Chicken-egg idealists twist Democritus and consciousness No need for such hypothesis I kick the stone; refute it thus Underneath the spreading chestnut tree I sold you and you sold me, there lie they and here lie we I am the face below icepick and paint I define and disobey damnatio memoriae I AM TRUTH I AM THE MARCH OF HISTORY I am the boot stomp in the face of man for all eternity And you die when I say you die You live on inside of me In the ash heap of history