Song For Erik Petersen

We must sing around the fire of a billionaires mansion
Roasting snack food til it is fucking charred
I'll have this dream in my head, until we overthrow who is in charge
It's not fair that they don't pay their taxes
Its unfair that they gentrify our homes
They shovel all their bullshit to the masses
Through advertisements built from our own bones
They outspoke us, they control us, they can watch their backs
They have police in their pockets, they have most of all of us slacked
We have tools to break their mansions and rip them apart
I'm not lying when I tell you all of this was proved
I'm just a lowly carpenter so, what have i power to do?