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The sigil of poor
Are their skin and their words
Labelled by the lens
As black and no coat
Depicted as stain
Of the gilded cloak
The dirty ones
But nothing to chew
Now they got their hands
On the newest spade
To pick up dirt
To a bigger scale
You know this nation
Is headed to an end
If they don't stop
Digging down
What is wrong with this
Are we perfectly fine?
They said addiction is
A lethal thing
Then why this street's
Got no one on the death toll
Are these bodies immortal
And we just don't know
Or the dose is not enough
Now they got their hands
On the newest spade
To pick up dirt
To a bigger scale
You know this nation
Is headed to an end
If they don't stop
Digging down
Is this the one
That we are really waiting for
That's worthy enough
For all our resilience
If not can we try
To tone down the messy row
If yes then play
With none of the nonsense noise
They made the spinning wheel
For the peasants' working hand
The Hand lays down the handlebar
To carry them around
Like a horse
They'd whip 'em all up
And assume the own the man
Slaves are now
Not written in the skin
But written on the mind
Ugh it makes me sick
It makes me sick
It makes me sick
It makes me
Sick
Is this the one
That we are really waiting for
That's worthy enough
For all our resilience
If not can we try
To tone down the messy row
If yes then play
With none of the nonsense noise
I'll put my hopes
If I see the sign
This is the time
That you give me the sign
Uh oh
This is the time
That you give me the sign
Give me the sign
Give me the sign
Give me the sign
This is the time
That you give me the sign
This is the time
That you give me the sign