Lyrics:

This sickness rots,

guiding our hands to distractions from panicked thoughts.

Something must have slipped my mind.

Guilt has a vice grip on leisure time.

Sell your labor straight to the landlord.

Put your faith in a cop with an M4.

Roll the dice; you've got the rest of your life.

Freedom comes at a hell of a price.

Poverty hiding in plain sight,

underneath the glow of city street lights.

Immigrants struggle to feed their families.

Normalization of inhumanity.

Sell your solace straight to the doctor.

Drown in debt to get your name on a placard.

We are conditioned to crave competition,

like those who can't cut it just lack the ambition.

Give me a fucking break.

Is this enough?

How much should I lay on the line?

"Should I prepare... / Do I deserve..."

Poisoning my mind.

This sickness rots,

guiding our hands to distractions from panicked thoughts.

Something must have slipped my mind.

Guilt has a vice grip on leisure time.

Guilt has a vice grip on leisure time.