Yo, cleanse me, clean me of my sour soul, I'm viscious. My mind races from the satellite dishes. No technology, this world's corrupt. They can't feed me food for thought, I won't budge.
Simple minds get blown, shattered into pieces. My thesis is thick like the Book of Eli. We live we die, we put 'em in the sky. Free your mind as a slave like the Fourth of July.