Cursed from the moment of birth. Bound by the severest of men who inherit the fruits of my work and benefit from the labor of my hands as I am coerced and embroiled to remove my own soul from the soil. Given just enough to live to keep on working. Kept comfortable enough to never question why. They've made up stories of the ones who came before me. I am convinced that, with hard work, I too shall rise. Be where the Master leads. Eat what the Master feeds. Reap what the Master seeds. Weep when the Master bleeds. Die when the Master needs another profit increase. Lorded over me, this magick and this power. They gave a god to me to never question, "why?" They tell me my reward comes in my final hour, that I will want no more when I reach paradise, until I want to die. They preach and they teach and they advertise. It's such a liberating transformation when all of your false hope dies. Be no longer blind. Decide to rise. They said your work will set you free, but there's another way to be. Cleansing Wall Street yuppie greed, World Bank sucklers. Now is the time to align the corporate whores up to the wall. Stone them all with their fool's gold. Dreams and drones, thieves and clones. Stack the stones. Crack their bones.
