(It's A Dirty Job- But Somebody's Gotta Do It)
Why Don't We All Strap Bombs To Our Chests And Ride Our Bikes To The Next G-7 Picnic? It Seems Easier With Every Clock Tick. But Whose Will Would That Represent? Mine? Yours? The Rank-and-file's? Or Better Yet: The Government's? But I Don't Want To Catalyze Or Synthesize The Second Final Solution. I Don't Want To Be The Steve Smith Of The Revolution. Do You See The Analogy? We're The Oilers. The World Bank- The Flames! And Just 2 Minutes Remain In The 7th Game Of The Best Of 7 Series! Yeah, Jesus Saves! Gretzky Scores! The Workers Slave. The Rich Get More. One Wrong Move And We Risk The Cup. So Play The Man, Not The Puck. Why Don't We Plant A Mechanic Virus And Erase The Memory Of The Machines That Maintain This Capitalist Dynasty? And Yes, I Recognize The Irony That The Very System I Oppose Affords Me The Luxury Of Biting The Hand That Feeds. But That's Exactly Why Priviledged Fucks Like Me Should Feel Obliged To Whine And Kick And Scream- Until Everyone Has Everything They Need.