Lyrics
The final factor in a sudden change of opinion
Young boys without precedent
Set fire to the face of dead presidents
The seal of sanity
The answer to ‘Why don’t they?’
Grown men of every precedent are slaves to the face of dead presidents
Crawl like a snail upon a razors edge
Do anything when you call for me
When the possessor is possessed
The shaming and the smile
The in-between of have and have nots
The current state of my precedent
Is learn to hate the face of dead presidents
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