lirik lagu children of privilege – sole & the skyrider band
to the children of privilege
taste the pavement
you paid to see an entertainer, but this ain’t
entertainment
you will know a mad scientist
he’s held captive by his own creation
now who am i?
lost in gps infinity
sold the silver lining got welfare for those in tax
haven
captain caveman, one ring, few computers between men
and homeland security
the fed can’t save me, its vertigo…
only my phone can find me
only pitchfork can judge me
please don’t shoot me, i’m already dead
what’s in the pistol? i hope it’s loaded with bread
the future is soy, digital age destroyed my meat
i’m flesh and wires, a baghdad street
10 millennium of conquering chariot tires
like so many feet back between those who chase
buffaloes, and those who chased paper
burned books and paid others to light the fires
past buried in sediment, we fight liars
and light up the darkness like and terrorist strike
or someone is off key, throwing the church choir
they mock excellence, give raises to their mediocre
but there are no equals amongst dwarfs and ogres
vocally, i’m spitting on modernity like a child birth
a child soldier, singing songs of dried up seas in
style-less verse
taste the agony, it rains down, like when the dinosaurs
blinked out
an inconvenient stock
wash the blood off your tongue, watch the idiots flock
ridden with conspiracy, you can’t blame us
rode in on a pale horse, yet you can’t tame us
the race to the middle has begun, you can’t sane or
same us
the mind is a diamond trapped in stone, you can’t flame
us
even if you burn a village and all the villagers in it
there’s always a camera, a diary page blowing in the
wind and a story to tell it
raised in front of a tv, we just want to be famous
now we wanna be well fed, give us our names back
i ain’t scared, i’ll roll on information until the
wheels fall off
till you only get a record release after they go and
cut your b-lls off
that’s the weight of the world, the uber meinsch
rolling in a wheel chair
soon we’ll all be f-cking and swimming and fighting
foreign wars in wheelchairs
the world is flat, when atlas shrugs we roll off in our
wheelchairs
the wool is over our eyes, but the wool is still real
here
where wolves guard the sheep
there’s no grain in the keep
chained in the deep
cuz tame is the way of the weak
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