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Inside The Lie
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The air is fresh, the day is bright, in God we trust, It is our right to shake the world by it's collective Heels and pick up all the change assign to them an hourly wage and find some pants with an elastic Waste and want we juxtapose, entire lands at our dispose, Battalions of the cheapest workers. Tiny fingers, tiny hands, We'll work them hard because we can, It's so decreed on all our currency Scream-loud as you can-Scream Visions in your worst dreams, nightmares All are true and bloom because of you. Each blade of grass and grain of sand residing on this sun-kissed land has all been weighed and valued sacred, that we may take our bigger stick and whack the dark, irreverent wrist, and keep tabs close, so that it's not


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