Black ground, grey shoes
Look up, look at them look at you,
Winding road, full of machines,
Programmed for servitude;
Black ground, grey shoes,
Look up, look at them stare into you,
Do they know, or are they just curious,
About my long hair and that beard;
Black ground, grey shoes,
They think they know, but all they do is look,
For I am not as curious,
As the deed I’m about to do;
Black ground, grey shoes,
I take out the tool,
Look up, its time to end your servitude,
Its time to free you;
Red ground, red shoes,
The deed is done, no more looks,
Keep walking down the road,
Avoiding the bodies as I go.
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