| There were smelling salts that day
|
| And she was like him was like them was like us
|
| Holding plagiarized decisions
|
| Based off backlogs of survival tactics
|
| In another phone booth
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| Founded on shattered glass and traffic stops
|
| And every one of those corner dives
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| Had quiet young teeth
|
| That were ready to spark the hidden cameras…
|
| Ready to document the damns and fights of revolt
|
| Built on a stolen dime
|
| And we all screamed
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| «Nevermind the cops
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| Just keep your head down and your eyes on your watch
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| And when the sky turns loud and your body shakes apart
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| Give them a horror/sight of how the vigilantes march.»
|
| There was a halo of shock that night
|
| That surrounded the city halls, the statue stones
|
| It blocked the doors and gave up the roads to threats
|
| And running hostile codes
|
| Cadavers rose and walked out of morgues
|
| And looked for new ways to signal out
|
| That the hired guns will not work tonight
|
| That the mains will run wild tonight
|
| That the sewers' residents, the alley’s inhabitants
|
| The orders' vacants…
|
| All toss their livened limbs into tonight |