By The Throat
October 26th, 2007
I want to see the finger pointed at those claimed to have crossed the line I
want to bleed their dull lives dry I want to spit on all the unwritten laws
they cling to so deeply with sharp insecure claws I don’t care about your
routine I refuse to fall in with the disarmed machines I don’t give a fuck
how hard you are don’t care about your incentives or your values If only I
could make the gesture real if only I could grab you all by the throat
