Final Fight. Under Attack. When Words Go Unchallenged. Zeneszám

We're to busy scratching ourselves to think that something's wrong. We're too busy sitting on this faulty throne held by our wrongs. The social ruiners of our era, the nihilism I'm ashamed of. Be the man your dad wants you to be. Using your power to muffle the progression of all the girls and all the women. No one gives a shit about your needs to play fair, act fair, deny your feelings. A poor excuse of my category, I want to reporgram your mind. A sad excuse of humanity, disallowing others the change to shine. Still we play dead and act like it's okay. Adn we all allow this to be excused a phase. You are the problem