Unplugged, by Ode To Babel
Labor + KKKapital = System
The labor of many peoples’ times over the past four hundred years and change
The slaves functioning with whips to turn the cranks, then tapped for green poison to flow from the bile
Float, float, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
Actions glide near and far for without the wind for sails on Miami Beach
Beach combing after your two month workout plan of racial slurs, from your funky tongue: unbrushed
Float, float, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
The tongues of your bloated male figures switch from forks to knives, forth and back when a ring of little queens stand around them
Stealing their innocence fuels your recessed cerebral cortex with the dopamine needed to throw the hags around in a pile tall enough to cover the spread
Float, float, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
Your allegiance to an alternative discourse pushed by an illusion of a paradise located in a dark hinterland is admirable, but easily defeated with simple, rational logic
Float, float, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
B-Real knows like us to stop the illusions since some people tell me that I need help
Some others can fuck off and go to hell
Float, float, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
No shock, no time to stop the stroke who thinks that a capital method of production
Labors the love lost because of overextension
Since less is more than the least of your basic principles
Whom nothing is something, but very little
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
Float, float, float on
Float on, float on
