Finched - Out Out

Thousand days waiting and here it comes

Four hundred hours' work for a second of fun

The rattle of the cavity, the sound for the ears

Shakes and throws around the world for millions of years

Feel my might

Petrol’s been hijacked, made good for the word

Streamlined operation, the subject of good

Discourse is conventional, so splitting the mold

The pattern’s seeming obvious, the premise unfolds

Stripped and bone naked, the eating cold

Fortune for lovers' lies, blind soul

Cast among the garbage, shoulder soil

A world of young peasants' never-ending toil

Leave the petty beggars to their own end

Blistered and corroded for dividends

Hasten the burning with the breath of fools

Left to fighting stinging stench, corrupted rule