Worker, Worker

Worker, worker

Always toiling and suffering, never have time

Pain on our face, while we’re telling you fine

Breaking our bodies, working away on the grind

Losing our mind, watching our lives unwind

Worker, worker

Alienated, but force our mouth, to move

So sedated, we can never, find a groove

Exploitation, got us feeling, just like a fool

Never, anything extra, every month, rent is due

Worker, worker

No dirt, under our feet, just dog shit and concrete

Keep us tweaked, keep us stupid, keep us weak

Open your mouth, lock you up, no one taking risks

Worker power, class war, raise your fucking fist

Worker, worker

I’m sorry we never see our kids, I’m sorry

For the bids, the bosses, the landlords, the pricks

Fuck the cops, and they street dictatorships

Lost our vision, we can only see apocalypse

Worker, worker

Shitty food, no immune system, we always sick

Food desert in the hood, all the docs writing ‘scripts

Feeding fast food to the kids, sugar water piss

Into the fucking wind, the poor are left to twist

Worker, worker

Working conditions, shortening our lives

No win situation, the bourgeoisie tells us lies

Stuck in stagnation, no revolution in sight

Try to make it another day, just one more night

Worker, worker
Smash the state, and build something new in its place

No more sectarian shit, no same shit different face

Build a movement, stop your sellout paper chase

Its not just for your family, fight for the Earth and the human race

Clumsy Exploitation

nothing 

surprises 

us 

anymore

about 

this

capitalist

reality

it's

the

same

voice

talking

to

us

everywhere

we 

go

echoing

ideas

so

vapid 

and

hollow

we

try to

prepare 

optimistically

for 

tomorrow

while

we

manage

our 

clumsy 

exploitation

and 

intimate

alienation

Skinny Jean Dreams

the day you

catch me,

wearing

name brands and

skinny jeans

i’ll be smoking

tina

with the

skinny fiends

i’ll be having

silly dreams,

about fame

and C.R.E.A.M.

stuck between,

exhaustion

and the need

to scream

you will 

never catch me

off the rails

or on the 

marked trails

we need 

more successes

and less fails

more trying to live

a life that means

something for

the future beings

part of the tales 

told by the whales
political prisoners 
Fill up the jails

Dystopic Phobia

Nothing hiding

In the mists and shadows

But class antagonists

And rich assholes

Who make more poverty

And more mounting debts

Shoving us deeper down,

into the depths

Killing us more, every day

Everyone poor, never enough pay

Everyday, killing each other

Imprisoning my sisters and brothers

I repress my oppression

I regress in my depression

No lesson in making concessions

Your digression, becomes a obsession

Stuck in the past or a dystopia

Suffering from a bad case of myopia

Your vision gives me claustrophobia
Or some kind of fucked up phobia

Capitalist Kitsch

Capitalism is the largest cult

Every member, trying to crush you to a pulp

Work you to death and leave scars

Inject the market, with horrible war

This system, be peddling apathy

I got a wrath that I can’t scratch or see

Lead by fucking sociopaths and moonbats

Can’t escape this poverty trap, king of the rats

Steady exploitation, webs of oppression

Can’t shake away the repression

Invisible hand tight round my neck, I’m choked

Lost in a haze of booze and dab smoke

The essence is to be present

No acquiescence, or forced concessions

Keep to the struggle, only progression,

No estranged relations and alienation

False meritocracy

So sad to see, so much poverty

Sadness in the eyes, of almost everybody

The guises we carry, are so heavy

Regrets need to be buried, be wary

Of getting lost in fantasy and the, delusionary

Tarry favors, your cronyism, and inheritance

It’s easy to walk the tightrope with a safety net

Try living check to check, you’d never make it

Pretend to struggle in the city, you are shit

So later, you can go on, in Salon,

writing about how you toughed it

Just a shitty anthropologist,

in your ethnographic bliss

Got your degree,

pretending to care about the poor and dissed

But you are far too narcissistic
And can produce only kitsch