I am the highway of city
I serve as wide as you can swerve
But I fail to grow with capitalism
Because of the totalitarianism
the totalitarianism of capitalism
the fag of 'capitalitarianism'
I am rotting away and what matter are the sweeties
Put your hands up and we are feeding the Queenies
I saw the devil headline that was smiling
I knew that there was someone crying
We are to be littered
But our death is recyclable
Processed to become your lucky number
There are fools like me
Borne to fill up your height
Don't worry, don't worry
You are safe, you won't topple
You are made to be too perfect
I am rotting away and what matter are the sweeties
Put your hands up and we are feeding the Queenies
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