Letras de Salem de Paint It Black
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Somehow we're similar simians, on a steady diet of carcinogens.
We'll be the weathermen, warning of the black skies ahead.
Broadcasting live from the City of the Dead. The forecast is for hail,
locusts and falling anvils bring common sense and science to a standstill.
Watch as witches burn, fanatics setting fire to the foundation,
playing duck season/rabbit season with our children's education.
The barbarians are at the gates, that's my diagnosis.
If they make it past the barricades, before the drawbridge closes,
there will be no cause to celebrate, there will be no throwing roses.
The same racist god that sanctioned truncheons and hoses at Selma.
The god of bloodied scalps and broken noses,
of back alley abortions and voided civil unions.
So remember the next time you're kneeling for communion:
They want us locked down and mute.
And they're still burning books so why not follow suit,
and set fire to their treatises and stale superstitions.
MY intelligent design: no submission...