They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there

But it's our job to keep the lies out of the breathing air

Are we in a position to pull an insurection

When it's our job to keep

Corruption from total eruption

Off the track

Short on time

Human race

Fall behind

The Great Escape

The Vast Empire

The fields of mines

The cold barbed wire

We're faling out and withering away

Should we try and make a fairweather day

When the finish line is beyond far away

They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there

We'll never make it through the tear gass and the smoke filled air

They're killing everyone nameless and poor

Outside I struggle to survive

It's a fucking war

We're dying off and sinking away

Far beneath the wings of the Enola Gay

Where the podium is out of bullet's range