I hear you talking away you better stuff it up I am your price to pay surfing up what's wrong with others don't mean you have a say or a face So quit shaking down trees you're only making false wind so it can spread and land in everyone's hands that ain't no master-plan But you'd go miles and miles just to see us burn Taking notice of what we lack not what we earned and I'm sick of it. I THINK YOU'VE LOST IMPORTANCE OF WHAT WE HOLD To me you're just a crumb of dirt rubbed on into gold. I'm losing patience, it's getting old. You're Diseased. You spread it all over