They dream, of what's good.
They speak, of the love.
They use us, the Citizens.
The members of Dread,
A living dead
All in one bed.

The trespasses of they
The collective, a rort
Striking my heart,
Muzzling my thought.
Wanna stay outta line –
Let I, be mine.

Of me, am I free?
Is their good, mine?
Is their love, mine?
Are we too blind to see?

The group, the mob, the government:
There ain't no difference,
It's all rules
For the greater good
Of them, and us
Not you or I.

The lamb sent to die,
We watch and we cry,
But we let it go by;
The deaths, the cries and the lies.

Social slogans of yore,
Bent meanings and lore,
Don't follow the law.
Walk out o' the door.

The talk of freedom.
Free health, free education,
Yet for this, they steal
My wealth, my life, my ability to choose.

Damn dreams of empty rhetoric.
Under the covers, we weep.
The slumber, too deep.
We need awakening.
The end of control,
The beginning of life.

Of old, one does ring true,
We can be lost,
We can be found.
There is a chance yet,
To rise,
To break the mold.

Just let me alone,
And I'll deal it back.
I'll let you, be yours –
Why not I be mine?