Artists in a Time of War - DC the MIDI Alien, Trademarc

We are artists in a time of war

This ain’t a song, it’s a call to arms, bring 'em on, knives to firebombs

Whatever your firearms

I want a million man march, AR15s on shoulders

All of my soldiers, power to the people you see

Or I could bring my people to the powers

Where I could just reach you at home, but I’ll surely not preach you alone

I want free-thinking revolutionaries that refuse to bury their rights

Due to every government oversight at night

Y’all are glued to the tube, eating up the news like fast food

Like every soldier killed is glad to

Every single bill’s to tax you, every single bill’s just passed through

Steady phone calls harass you, while the National Debt’s around fourteen figures

But I figured ain’t nobody calling them pointing fingers

I want my government to fear me, flag me

Watch list, try and gag me

V for Vendetta black bag me

I intend to marry my right to bear arms

A militia mentality, rally me and move on

Behind enemy lines, with every line, I’m like Tiananmen

Can’t state my sentiments and my contemporaries?

They’re just temporarily dead weight

Way beyond local PD, it’s a fed case

To justify killing, you’re considered a head case

You ply with villains and you’re living in dead space

I mean blackball publicly your patriotism’s erased character defaced like stars

at last calls

As drunk straw witty one-liners that our city’s finest citizens

Are eating fine dinners in

Slipping in back doors and killing them slow

For such a rich country we got little to show

I don’t condole flying planes into two buildings but I understand kids shooting

school children (why)

Cause I reach that level myself, when everyone else start to look like the

devil himself, it doesn’t help

Everyday they betray foreigners as catalysts to coroners and killers

Like every Muslim born is suicide bombing his village and raping and pillage

and on 'til freedom is gone

That sells stickers and T-shirts but kids back from war a year later you could

stick 'em in deep earth

I got a message for politicians, I’m polishing my weapons and mission to be

abolishing their posh living

Like shooting fish in a barrel, glistening

Pistols carrying arm, like Marilyn, Christmas Caroling

Gone are those days

Y’all ain’t reap what you sow cause the last thing you’ll see is my muzzle

flash glow