These rivers run too deep ((and legislated fracked by the F_D_A))

With schemes of men for days that lay ahead ((war monger bloodlines dine))

They sell their souls so cheap ((not too cheap anymore, Two Billion))

They breed mistrust and fill my heart with dread ((F_o_xy moxie tick- tock))

When did the boy become a man ((in the aftermath of a carpet bomb))

And lose his life to learn ((knowledge increases sorrow, and song output))

So much confusion to this plan ((distraction action constancy o FUD))

These times are not changing ((click, click, on the cosmic fulcrum))

Noosphere-nine:

Aw they're changing, baby. With every meal we'll feed the wolf o hope.

..on a hollowed/hallowed hill, somewhere with a groove, a studio's being rebuilt