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Bowl of cherries in Waskasio Creek
A sylvan way of life for those who seek
None beyond a parkland mall
This land scape oasis now feigns city hall
And they call this peace
Not how it seems to me
Sugar-coated disease
Buckle at the knees
Your members of Parliament lining their garments
With hides of the masses, heads stuck up their asses
Bald little soldiers, flags sewn to their shoulders
This insight spawns despair
Why am I not part of this
Pine cone wealth and cedar-fence bliss?
All your novel themes
That keep you amused on your way to the Canadian, flag-waving, Aryan, motherfucking, cunt sucking dream
Oh yeah
Nobody cares about the state of affairs
You can turn blue in the face but you cannot erase
Oblivious to the obvious
I'm making perfect sense but I'm not getting through
Progress overdue
But don't expect to find me with a note left to be read
Pistol in my hand and bullet in my head
This census indicates and this atlas has related
3 billion humans I haven't irritated
I've got a lot of work to do
3 billion people, that's 3 billion snotty fuck you's
Fuck you
Fuck all of you
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