A silly thing it eats at me keeps me up I admit
An ugly need you don’t hide I can’t help but to see
Gets you hard makes you wet thrilled to talk and to vent
Let me know tell me twice and again and again
The brutal truth of the thing
Is you need to control to feel free
Your own life it’s a pit luck is late to each event
Job is lame so are friends simple math less than shit
Appoint yourself take an oath rally troops affix a lens
Letter sent lecture held you’re center stage for a bit
The brutal truth of the thing is you need to control to feel free
No Gods No Masters you sing but you sure love playing police
Mr. Officer what are my charges?
Mr. Officer
I want to speak in my defense
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