On the eleventh day of the the ninth month in the first year of the third millennium Nineteen pawns took down a king Continued a war that no country can win
Why can't we understand that war begets more war? Take a moment to think what's the price of more?
It's an insurance scam feeding the richest man and now you can't pretend Our privacy's been damned If you sniff the crotch of all the freedom lost you can smell the cost stinks like rotting plop
We'll never stop the cause War begets more war...
Now the consequence of these bizarre events left them shrill and tense Dying in canvas tents Fourteen years have passed and the upper class has left the lower class to suck it's polished ass
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