Footsoldiers

Psychic Sperm

Where you put your nose is plain to see
Plainly out, a dunce conspiracy
Who’d say no to power, bro? Can’t you see we’re waiting out this clock?
Who’d be there to stop him, then? Our red lines are more like moving dots

You are not the victim that you see
All is not a vast conspiracy
Never learn from anything; anything that’s bad is just a crock
Contrived by a secret clan; never something caused by your own lot

So upset by something so mundane
Chomping at the bit from holes in brains
You still think he fights for you? Laughing all the way now to the bank
You still think it’s needed, too? Punching down, forever pulling rank?