Divided Heaven. A Rival City. Usual (Chris) Suspect. Zeneszám

From under the line
Intolerance disguised
As adequate living wage
Gonna build a wall
Four stories tall
With bricks of aimless rage

But it's you
Slogan touting 'mericans
With blood upon your hands

Shields of faith block common sense
Drown out the weak and damned
And I thought of all the usual suspects
Until I realized there was none left

Lottery of birth
Decline of your self-worth
Measured materialistic waste
Market?s overfull
Culture?s disposable
Generation throwaway

Yeah it's true, yeah it's true
Disregard all consequence
As we walk squarely on the fence

The truth is there?s no way out
Incentive buried by doubt
A sea of profits over lives
Where golden parachutes don?t lie
All for the cameras and lights