[Jeanpaulmicrowave]
[?] on its way you better run
The squad car's got two flats in the front
Our knives have mirrors in the captains bloodshot eyes
He noticed specs of donuts sprinkled all about his thin lips
He'd wished he tipped the bartenders while she was looking his way
Which never happened after the initial order took place
Johnson & Johnson spilled all over his face
Gave the devil a tight sheen that accentuated his white race
We grew up with masks sewn to earlobes like carnival auxiliaries
We made friends with weirdos
A sharp scream from below the dance floor failed to cut through the trances steady base
The complimentary water shot high from blowholes but didn't reach the ceiling
In fact didn't reach anywhere, just turned to vapor in the February heat
Freedom ain't sweet, the blood stains still beat, we won't quit dancing until the revolution's complete