they stand still long enough for the picture
five hooded anarchists, fists
in the air
they've come to wreak destruction
and they don't care
one brandishes a hammer
and eyes a window pane
another targets a cop car
what joy should they prey
upon a pol or a pop star
someone's gotta bleed
for not meeting their needs
it's all your fault
they have welfare moms
with their anger they light
their fire bombs
they say the system's screwed, we've all been had
and everyone who loves it is money-mad
and nothing could ever make up for the bad
there is but one objective now:
castrate Dad
