i am the blistering hands of those who work all day growing strong and calloused as your own grow soft and pale and aching like the magnet hearts of those you sent away all i had i gave to you now it is gone what is there left to lose in this hand i carry a torch the other holds a knife i offer here all i possess no bargain for to strike for i will take by force what i ve been owed for all my life rising like the dead on the day of reckoning using the tools that we d been lent to strike our masters down and even if your dogs do run me down my brother will remain growing in a farmhouse too colossal to contain and he ll pour forth like floodwater the moment i am slain
['neo-psychedelic']