| The Empire’s got a new boss
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| Delilah Copperspoon, what a loon, not human, too posh
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| Her city’s a machine and I’m a loose cog
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| I’m popping out the wall like a cuckoo clock
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| To move across rooftops in two hops
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| I’m mute, but if I need to, I’ll blow the roof off
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| And kudos to you lot, that do what you’ve got to do to follow through and shoot
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| a true shot
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| When a bolt from the blue shocks you
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| I’m going to watch to determine who’s true and who’s not
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| The world’s bursting with vermin and parasites
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| Who surface disturbing this permanent paradise
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| Cannibalising itself then metabolising the toxins
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| And we’re shocked when it’s paralysed
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| I know violence is glamorised so I have analysed and agonised on every dying
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| man I’ve sliced!
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| Take back what’s yours
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| Walk through floors, walls and locked doors
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| Take back what’s yours
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| 'Til warm water pours from all your pores
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| Take back what’s yours
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| All aboard, pull the oars 'til we storm all your shores
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| Take back what’s yours
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| 'Til your foes crawl gory floors on all fours
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| There’s smoke and dust choking us
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| I hope it won’t combust
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| It’s coating the mechanism of oppression’s spokes with rust
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| There’s only so much that we’ll let our load be pushed
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| To the overseers who oversee us I show disgust
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| How come they get the loaf while we beg below for crusts?
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| I don’t trust them just as far as I could throw the fucks
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| And when stones are chucked, bones are bust
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| Wounds are opened up
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| Resistance and revolt’s a must
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| We’re going for broke or bust
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| Fed up of hanging 'round shanty towns in hand-me-downs
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| I’m tracking down your family if you don’t hand me the crown
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| Today’s the day that I will finally find the fire inside
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| To come and claim what’s rightfully mine
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| I’m tripping the kingdom and crying for
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| Children, men, and women to rise
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| Your tyranny’s rivers are dry
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| My, this is a riveting sight
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| In the blink of an eye, you’re going to die
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| So think of your imminent plight
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| Give it a try
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| I decline to give up the fight 'til the end of my life
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| Take back what’s yours
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| Walk through floors, walls and locked doors
|
| Take back what’s yours
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| 'Til warm water pours from all your pores
|
| Take back what’s yours
|
| All aboard, pull the oars 'til we storm all your shores
|
| Take back what’s yours
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| 'Til your foes crawl gory floors on all fours
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| I’m going in
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| I’m of the inclination to instigate an insubordination
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| This is an incantation; |
| an invocation, invitation to an investigation
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| I’ll infiltrate, interpret and inseminate insider information
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| Incite intimidation in interrogation to get an
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| Indication of the indignatious indoctrination
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| Inundated in her nation
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| Of integration, immigration, indiscrimination, interrelation
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| And inflammation in inhabitation under industrialization
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| Innocuous inoculation against an infestation
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| Insinuation? |
| Incrimination
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| Implication? |
| Incarceration
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| It’s an illustration of the inculcated inconsideration
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| Incubated in us since her installation
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| The inauguration initiated intensification of
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| Inebriation imitating inspiration
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| Intoxication impersonates invigoration
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| Instrumental in inhibiting imagination
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| Innovation replaced with irritation
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| Infatuation with infuriation
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| Illumination with immolation
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| Incineration and inhalation of the vapour’s incapacitation
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| I’m impudent indemnification’s insolent incarnation
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| Your argument just is invalidation
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| Take back what’s yours
|
| Walk through floors, walls and locked doors
|
| Take back what’s yours
|
| 'Til warm water pours from all your pores
|
| Take back what’s yours
|
| All aboard, pull the oars 'til we storm all your shores
|
| Take back what’s yours
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| 'Til your foes crawl gory floors on all fours |