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We’ll burn you down.

Your selfish world of fascist pigs
Made of idiots, anarchists, suits, and wigs.

The idiot distracted by the world.
and even at the sphere that twirled.

Anarchists holding here and true.
We'll be the death of you.

Suits, oh the suits, those discriminative pawns.
Worried about their jobs, and their manicured lawns.

The wigs, the brains for the suits.
Stomping down lone anarchist with their gun powder boots.

But one day, we won't run from your dogs, we'll own the hounds.
And we'll chase down you fakes, till surrender from the last wig sounds.

WERE READY FOR A REVULTION!