Wooo folk-punk. Great band.

To delete the process running my life

All that’s left is to sharpen the knife

Cut the rope that binds our legs

Separate the kings from their own heads

It is time to spit at the air

Wash the dried blood from our hair

Stitch one another back together

What care we for the wind and weather

Don’t say your prayers, don’t cast your vote

Keep the predators hands from around your throat

Saw through the tendons, throw down the yoke

Turn off the gas before we choke