Somewhere along the line we lost. Individuality paid the cost. Close enough to inhale the security. It's always. Too far away. . Breed upon. Culture sickness.
It's coming through the air. For all of us to hear. Could it be the sounds of liberation. Or just the image of detention. . We want the airwaves back.
With my faced smashed against the concrete. I kinda find it hard to speak. The inevitable freedom of oppression. and I stay down.. . Kneel down to our masters.
Is there a single thing. That'd make you comprehend. As long as we shut up. We still sanction them?. . My silence will convict me. My silence will convict me.