Merchant class, buying plastic crowns
Adorned in robes, above their station
The deceivers, and the deceived
Drag us down with the cheapest ways and means
Colossal draining, every single day
Reducing senses, underneath their reign
My resentment burns away inside
Claustrophobic air I have to breath
I'll suffer not, not, your vision
Let me make this crystal clear
What you call progress, I call it death
Don't waste your breath on me
Merchant class, stifling elite
Merchant class, never meant to lead
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