(no subject)
I'm a molotov cocktail
You're Dom Perignon
Baby, what's that confused look in your eyes?
What I'm trying to say is that, I burn down buildings
While you sit on a shelf inside of them.
You call the cops, on the looters and piethrowers.
They call it class war, I call it co-conspirators.
'Cause baby, I'm an anarchist, You're a spineless liberal.
We marched together for the eight-hour day
And held hands in the streets of Seattle,
But when it came time to throw bricks
Through that Starbucks window,
You left me all alone.