Anarchy! Anarchy! Anarchy!
I scream as my blood drips from my body to the ground.
All I see are bullets flying around.
And I can't help but smile,
Because this is what I've been waiting for, for a while.
And you may ask how it starts?
Where else would it begin besides art?
There was a beautiful picture that leaders thought was shit,
and it helped lead to the flying of some fists.
Soon it became illegal for people to speak their mind.
Let me just say people didn't exactly respond to kind-
Lee was the leader of this "Art Revolution."
On a mission to rid the world of the governments pollution.
And they were prepared to fight back.
The leader of the "good guys" name was Jack.
And he was determined to keep law and order in its place
no matter how it effected the actual human race.
As we, the rebels, run through the streets
I can see people being crushed under my feet,
for a cause that is worth millions of lives.
The cause is the freedom to express what is on our minds.

We all march to the White House like an army.
The banner that reads "Rebels will be shot" is quite charming.
No one could stop us, they were all too scared.
Not a soul would have shot at us if they were dared.
We walked right into the bunker and there they soldier stood.
Them with their guns, and us with our planks of wood.
We ran right at them like we were mad.
They never knew defending their country would be this bad.
Lee walked right up to the President and said,
"Change everything back or you're dead."
You wouldn't think the President would talk back,
but that's because he had his leader behind him, Jack.
Jack and Lee stood eye to eye,
from a mile away you could hear a baby cry.
They exchanged words even though they hated each other still.
They decided to meet at the top of Dali Hill.

So, Jack and Lee went up the hill to settle this dispute.
Whatever one's arument was the other did refute.
Lee through the first punch, as a true rebel would.
Jack hit him with everything he could.
The two went at it like there was no tomorrow.
All we knew was that the next day would either bring happiness or sorrow.
They came rolling down the hill.
Both looked ready to kill.
Something in the air just didn't seem right.
All of a sudden, I didn't want to know the outcome of the fight.

Jack had won and thought it was over.
What he didn't know was I was standing over his shoulder.
I snapped his neck an watched his body fall.
I looked up to see my companions staring in awe.
This shit was far from over, it as only the start.
To get back to the only thing we cared about, art.
My troops and I would rise to the occasion
and take down any enemy, black, brown, or caucasian.
We will never give up, no matter the circumstances.
We don't care what people say our chance is.
My troops and I know whats key:
We know, "It is better to die on your feet then live on your knees."