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• Artiste: Blank Theory
• Titre: Fascist
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This cold surrounds the lifeless souls around you and this greed separates. Who gets control? It starts to feel...and you can't say I never sat at the table with the fascists. Now you've shown your face, in it's darkest days. Fuck you, you don't own me, we'd be better off dead. There's no bread here just the reddest of wine as these scabs from the 1930's decay. Who gets control? It starts to feel...and you can't say I never sat at the table with the fascists. Now you've shown your face, in it's darkest days. Fuck you, you don't own me, we'd be better off dead. Now you've shown your face in it's darkest days. You've become your father and we'd be better off dead. All these facets of me that I gave you when we lost control. It's this dictator's face that arrests you as you've been sold.