the master manipulators,
the ones in institutions
lyin bout fixing things,
no viable solutions
my spine break like these book binds
the way they ache these hands of mine
the way they ache these hands of mine

don't care if ya mommy, daddy, uncle a cop
when i see bacon you know i'm gonna
chop, chop, chop
you know i'm gonna chop, chop, chop oh
republicans talking all this homophobic shit
the way they ride my dick you'd think they like it oh
you'd think they like it
the way they take the strap you'd think they like it
fuck 12, dodging all those badges
coming for your neck then cut your head like cabbage
watch me smoke my backwoods reek my havoc
that was lavish, that was lavish, that was lavish
you know i tend to exaggerate
after this just going home i can masturbate
but seriously, these revolutionaries
gonna be the ones to fix this shit for you and me
activists, let's get back in our groove
timing is running out of you know we gotta
we gotta move
we gotta move

the master manipulators
the ones in institutions
lying bout fixing things
no viable solutions
my spine break like these book binds
the way they ache these hands of mine
the way they ache these hands of mine

Long as I can remember,
the suits supposed to “support” me haven’t been sufficient
been wagging their tails expecting treats with no repercussions
acting with acquisition, holding their version of holy water over my head
last weekend a police officer looked me in the eyes, as a corpse spilt off his tongue
& tried to wipe the blood off his fingers onto my cheeks

once i heard a whisper raise a revolution

Last summer,
rubber bullets ricocheted off the rims of my nightmares every night
tear gas gagged me
still scream-singing Philando though it stung
protest did more serving & protecting
community created some changemakers
built up revolutionaries with ideas bigger than the boxes bred by big business
working, working, working

once i heard a whisper raise a revolution

Someday,
perhaps these stained glass windows will depict our war stories
all this wishing on stars & sidewalks will be worth it
white men won’t walk so free
badges won’t be so bloody
the only guns we carry will hang from our lips

once i heard a whisper raise a revolution

the master manipulators
the ones in institutions
lyin bout fixing things
no viable solutions
my spine break like these book binds
the way they ache these hands of mine
the way they ache these hands of mine