I hear you talking away You better stuff it up I am your price to pay Surfing up what's wrong with others Don't mean you have a say or a face So quit shaking down trees You're only making false wind So it can spread and land in everyone's hands That ain't no master-plan But you'd go miles and miles just to see us burn Taking notice of what we lack not what we earned And I'm sick of it. I THINK YOU'VE LOST IMPORTANCE OF WHAT WE HOLD To me you're just a crumb of dirt rubbed on into gold. I'm losing patience, it's getting old. You're Diseased. You spread it all over