5.The Stick
Anxious Mo-Fo, my twin, my friend
Election time again, I wish that I was dead
Some conversation, if you're well read
To calm the storm of shit that's raging in my head
While languishing in basements：10,000,000 corpses lashed to beds
Atrophied to archetypes by all the able artists overhead
Mixed light of evening, sky of the sea
You take the Old North Road 'cause that's where you feel free
Your hidden backroads, your hidden dreams
A hidden cigarette that actually helps you breathe
Play an ancient mixtape, attempt a break from the routine
But dark on the horizon： form that's never fully come to being
Still need a reason for your unease -
You think the government, it wants you on your knees
But I'll tell you something, and here it is：
They want you driving to the supermarket, buying milk and cheese
And generating taxes to fuel their corn subsidies
You're either nibbling at the carrot, or you get beat with the
fasces
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