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letra de circus - a-merk

in the name of the lord, they swing their swords
hated or adored, they’ve gone overboard
they took a good idea and shat all over it
covert hits, they aren’t on that sober sh-t
but all us potheads get shot in the head
for taking bread, or making it
there’s no success for anyone, who’s faking it…

either you really believe, and choose to receive
the drugs they force through nose and under sleeve
only then, do you get some reprieve
from reasons to fight, die and grieve
the world is a circus, that’s nothing new
but more than ever, what we’re told isn’t true
really dude, you’re gonna let them lie to you?
i guess the system’s never worked for the few
intelligence has always been a cursed blessing
messing with you all days, worse than confessing
or dressing, dressing up their false tales
throwing moonshine makers into jails
and acting like that’s why we’re all f-cked
when really, it’s all the funds they’ve sucked
boom, no one has money anymore
you’re just poor enough to get in the door
of the church, pay your t-thes you little jerk
before the priests decide to put you to work
in their little factories, they smack you as they please
while you plead to be released from the shackles on your knees
they got you hard, tending plants in the yard
synthesizing phencyclidine into big shards
but that’s what you don’t know, you’re their hoe
creating our entire species’ chemical foe
you now make the drug that enslaved you
what you craved, now it evades you
pervades you, it’s in your every pore
but so sore and attuned you feel it no more
so poor, wish you could go back to before
but alas, you are forever their wh0r-
locked up, unlike priests with their c-cks up
rocks up, i mean they get their rocks off
grabbing little b-lls like… lemme hear a soft cough…
but they don’t wanna help, they laugh and scoff
motherf-ckers, we should cut their c-cks off

- a merk

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