I found a non-secure connection
Or a thousand
I'm routing attacks
Through an unsuspecting little shop
Seventy-five hundred miles away
I'm no part of any sleeper cell
I lurk happily on forums and bad code
I do it just for fun and, and out of boredom

Flip the killer switch to unleash an erasing virus
I'm a low-grade threat just fooling around
I put a red skeleton picture on your screen
I've got all your data, I've got all your secrets
Good luck, you can't stop it, no way to protect it
I infect, I attack, I steal, I take, I disable
And I taught myself manuals are weapons to enable
The too-big-to-fails find their money funds exchanged
And the men in charge are totally enraged

Epic poets of the future will write
The soul of the warrior must fight
Avenging every insult and slight
Down to his last megabyte
Helen who launched a thousand ships
Inspiring ego trips with microchips
Movie scripts with wetted lips
All worldly worth lies twixt two hips

Ooh, ooh
As the sun lights your face in the morning
As my hacking loud tempests are storming
Your inbox will give you its warning
Of attacks from the suitor you're scorning

Copyright: Downtown Music Publishing
Writer(s): B.R. Hornsby, Chip deMatteo