all those fucking Numbers There's too much on the line for numbers There's too much emphasis on numbers There's too much on the line for numbers There
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with all those fuckin numbers- there's too much on the line for numbers- there's too much emphasis on numbers- there's too much on the line for numbers
down in it I told them all I wasn't coming back Well maybe I'll go to France or maybe Spain 'Cause the work that they do here is the kind that numbs
been hurt unite and you will find that strength is truly found in numbers and you possess the power ot destroy those that you work under their machine
saviors Glued to the monitor Trained behavior Reduced to a number Mechanic enslavement A virtual prison Selected detainment A gradual nightmare Suicidal
There's a man of conviction who's all too ready for war There's a man with a number who cannot commit murder And a fallen idea soon becomes suicide Fallen
saviors Glued to the monitor, trained behavior Reduced to a number, mechanic enslavement A virtual prison, selected detainment A gradual nightmare, suicidal
greed In case Tommy Turbulence located the matrix then impedes(ooh) whistle b in dirge bout the boogie burst classic helen fell in haunted machines screened by similars that pagan act of suicide
strains the tympanic membrane I've been ordained the BLZ I'll flame Paragraphs I concoct, Cut Creator's like an organist Cool J exists as a journalist I illuminate over any number
, a dying species Poor sick dumb numb feeding feces Half-eaten starved beaten multiplying lying cheating Lean mean, unclean ammo for the gun machine
road fast, fast jungle got a suicide machine big bad jungle flying down high down the sewer streets sailing down the river streets destination light neon number
today Now there's nothin' left to say I'm lean and mean I'm just a moving machine I'm full of fun I'll be your number one I'm suicide I'll make your
homicide you can choose your side When it's a genocide you can choose your side You can choose your side when it's a suicide When it's a suicide you
Machines, madness, all out gore Who?s the demon started your war? Bureaucrat, fat cat, treason or thief You rip out your soul in disbelief Past food,
