The class difference is making us all crazy,nThe gifted fall back while the rich stay lazy,nMaybe we don’t know the value of buck,nShot 65 times until you’re all out of luck,nThe dump truck is full of issues and I’m ready to unload,nBroke the code with a show to make ya’ll explode,nInterfering dreams, wake up and hit snooze,nThe day is almost over and you’re missing the news,nBut it’s too broad to cast, the facts that are true,nWho is killing who? Hey chill, I’m not saying it’s you,nWe all play the part of winner and loser,nSooner you face the music and adjust the tuner,nThe anger will feel petty; we rock to lift the heavy,nWhile you’re stuck on trying to pick locks with a machete,nAlready broke down once, second time is never,nForget the anxiety let’s bring something clever,nYou better be at your best or let the larynx rest,nAnd watch me turn a battle veteran to medical mess,nIn three minutes flat, I do my best to rap, nYou into thinking I still care about that old boom bap,nBut I have better things to do, with a kick and snare,nMake your ears bleed until you scream, it’s not fair,nGlue is on a mission to make you think,nSo get your voice ready this is where you sing….nnThe haunt is gone, but this song has taken its place,nFor sanity’s sake, we brought drums and bass,ncame; back to Chicago to play her piano,nWith a little bit of wit we can run your stereonFrom a distance, the cynics, crave it to be simple,nNo doubt I’ll dumb it down for all you john Kimball’s,nJust meet me in the middle with some country funk,nAnd don’t say a word, like its 1970 punk,nThis erupt-ion is seconds away, from radio play,nAnd paying our bills, while I crave, a darker sound, nWe have to keep it bright, so hold on, hold on hold on tight,nLeaving the poor me to put fact in the fiction,nA sober window story to kick your addiction,nSlipped in, to your conscious, cured the depression,nFighting ends to make mends to our intention,nMixing excuses with creative juices,nJump in lily and pick up the reclusive,nLike this, she’s got the elbow room, for bow pits, nIn an orbit with drum kits that leave the skies split,nNo more bills cause going crazy is free,nFollow along and throw your hand in the sea,nCompletely, healed now of the sock drawer blues,nThe song was only part me, but you don’t need clues,nNo rules, No etiquette, just heartbreak and fun,nRun the streets with wings and lullabies for the sun,nNo helping is the theme, for the infected hearts,nAnd winners that never sleep end up playing the part,nSo it’s a good way to say goodbye when you’ve begun,nListen…..Ssssshhhhh this is how the spider sung.nXzzzzzzn zn