Well beneath the high rise neon death of the future
We speak between the screams of sky scrapers and
streetlights

The peace of page and statue
The plague of class gaps and "downsize."
WE ARE the only party of pawns to escape the queens

killing spree.
So we'll communicate through communiques scrawled over
self portraits

Quoting manifestos printed on pink slips from years past.
Cautious with out color today... We'll paint this world
red tomorrow.

For we are... For we are to FORM FORCE
Our word the hammer ~ Our voice the sickle
Slipping through subservience in seppuku sequence.

Marionettes unite, cut your chords and kill your maker
Hang his head in your cabinet.
FIRE ANTS ~ TOPPLE THE OLD HILLS AND BUILD MOUNTAINS!

From picket fence to picket line,
millions are facing decay under the pressure of
imperialism and profit,

Soon we'll smash the strike breakers and let no one else
rule but ourselves.