While the wealthy will forever
Roll weighted dice
So well and white within
New wonderland

The poor will just arrive by crutch
Quite cancel eyed
And half-believed, out letting
All their luck loose just this once

From beneath the eaten lining
Of their only overcoat and gum's

And outside in all the lines going
And gone around the world
Your kind is left to age and hold place

Its continual crunch of entire months
Toward zero's and ones
In the hoped pursuit of
What the time clock can't afford them

As it leans in slow with all their life
And eats those coming weeks to death

This is no joke, they can see themselves
At 50 and are not psychic
Hung in the ever evening of their years
Buckling down in the absolute wind

Spun between two rather serious magnets
What are well dressed daughters
[Unverified] the consummate
Good doctor bill

And it all boils back down
To timing and keeping up teeth
Bread ends and inevitable Albert Brown seats
Bread ends

In fact this will be the ring
Of your next new rap name
It will become your most mnemonic device
For those many most important PINs

It will be what I call my hard drive
And then second cat

Bread ends, good ghost to obscure rap
Tragic Middle class act
Never young and tall feared
In the cold grand code of collapse

Copyright: WARP MUSIC LIMITED
Writer(s): ADAM DRUCKER, ALEXANDER WESLEY KORT, DAX PIERSON, JEFFREY LOGAN, JORDAN DALRYMPLE, MARTON DOWERS