Systems

There's a war, there's a clash of sorts



Dead ahead



It's foreign but it's real



Knock, knock, knock



There it sits taxing every move



Your world son



So either get your gun or clean theirs



With the neck of your ego on the chopping block



Sugar memories bring you back to a time when



Your loudest care was a high chair



Not a number or a name for you to make



This is it ÔÇ˙cause luck moved out last week



No more camp



So shine your saber well



Before you kill a panzer tank with it



Like you told everyone you would



Good bye



Bend and spread or be dead with no history



So live for the luxuries



Cause you can't be a person with your head iced off.