Your commander in chief don’t run a mothafuckin thing. You don’t get to see the king. Just the puppets on a string.
Stone Masters skilled at craft carved and built Artist guild – Spartan heart and a tartan kilt. No strings attached, mind control puppetry powers. Kings of tact and influence from up in the towers.
Archaic games, and so many are played Lined up in the charade in a penny arcade.
The work force – a business, tax and bankers wet dream Forced to work within this axial blanket extreme. Oiling the cogs, we can’t dodge the machine. At war with the dogs because God’s in a dream. We sit on the train Mister Citizen plain. Our whisper faint – just a spittle of rain.
Ritalin brain -look at the fleet we’ve become. Meat puppets marching to the beat of a drum. Forbidden things – we actually carry the debt. Hidden strings, with actions of a marionette. It’s Geppetto’s ship an unforgivable prison. Choose scissors, wood-chipper or invisible prison