It cooks at 28 degrees
Swirling oil round the glass until it boils on a president's pipe dream
Those motherfuckers ate for free
And so you eat the dregs and
Pass their toils on their children
Like it's meant for posterity
So put your dukes up, bitch
Who learns the lesson if they're nervous
Some corporate punch drunks pining
Sweet on a carrot and a string
Positioned palms up catching that switch like a dime
You're always screaming for meat
But never question when it's cut from your spine
You got it
You got it
Everything was coming up white and pure
Rose balks in her shallow demure
Gazing at capital lights, the price of power looks like blood on threshing floors
Because you break me to bend my wounded knee
You always break me to bend my wounded knee
You make me wear every bruise like wedding rings
You got it
You got it
You got it
You got it
You bought it
You taught it
You sought it with blood