All my rivals will see what I have in store,… my gun
I’ve been harboring fleets in this resevoir,… red sun…
And this nation’s about to explode…

Your disciples are riddled with metaphors,… well hung..
Better pony up, bring both your barrelfuls,.. not one…
As we release this unspeakable toll…

(Every grain of sand equals)
(All the stars and everyone)

How’s our mother to damn these contributors…with mud?

How will the man who made chemicals difficult…shed blood?

How’s our father supposed to be told?