Paroles de Modern Disease

Current century Brings bad circulation From your blood to your feet And for your imagination Scandal of your mind Manifest itself Your ears have fried Your eyes have melted With the paper signed I can be dead You kill yourself to work They make your death worth Some grams of paint And some sad words The cars on the streets Brings black smoke But I still use one Known as a dope With the paper signed I can be dead Fill your people with the fucking poor Less you think you want more and more The society walks towards the lie I walk against this shit until I die