A mass of hands press on the market window Ghosts of progress Feeding on hunger And glaring through the promise Upon the food that rots slowly in the aisle A mass of nameless at the oasis That hides the graves beneath the masters hill Are buried for drinking The rivers water While shackled to the line At the empty wall This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground Listen to the fascist sing Take hope here War is elsewhere You were chosen This is gods land Soon well be free Of blot and mixture Seeds planted by our Forefathers hand A mass of promise Begin to rupture Like the pockets Of the new world kings Like swollen stomachs In Appalachia Its the priests that f**c you As they whisper holy things A mass of tears have transformed to stones now Sharpened on suffering And women into slings Hope lies in the rubble of this rich fortress Taking today what tomorrow never brings This is the new sound Just like the old sound Just like the noose wound Over the new ground Ain't it funny how the factory doors close Round the time that the school doors close Round the time that the doors of the jail cells Open up to greet you like the reaper... Like ashes in the fall...
for so many years we are blinded by the government... rich gets richer the poor just multiply... this ain't about the past nor the present... this is about who's stopping us to go back to the past and move on to the future... the one who adds the burden to our backs... the f**k out system of the government... that lead the sufferings of the people... dreams are lost, humans are dehumanized... generations!!! yeah Right... we've been experiencing this virus generation to generation.
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