| Here comes the minister,
|
| His three-piece seems sinister,
|
| And I’m just a visitor,
|
| But I still know when I see a prisoner,
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| I thought we all knew a tree and its fruit,
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| Are only just as good as the soil nourishing that root,
|
| And here comes the senator,
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| And his high-class, bitch-ass lobbyist eventsters,
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| I’m just a messenger,
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| Oh, but I still know when I see a prisoner, yeah,
|
| I thought we all knew a tree and its fruit,
|
| Are only just as good as the soil nourishing that root,
|
| I thought it was obvious when you worship the fond,
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| The root of your evil is what your heart becomes,
|
| The fruit that you bear may be beautiful to some,
|
| But it’s poison, it’s poison, it’s poison,
|
| It’s poison,
|
| Here comes the singer and his self-righteous demeanor,
|
| But look at these clothes--it shows,
|
| Everybody knows I am just a prisoner,
|
| I thought we all knew a tree and its fruit,
|
| Are only just as good as the soil nourishing that root,
|
| I thought it was obvious when you worship the fond,
|
| The root of your evil is what your heart becomes,
|
| The fruit that you bear may be beautiful to some,
|
| But it’s poison, it’s poison, it’s poison,
|
| It’s poison. |