Whole

You're still on the payroll
There's something you should know
You're ticking like a time-bomb
You'll turn us into toast
Your white faces just looking at races
To find a scapegoat
You've run out of the same old
Bereaved forgotten dots

I hear you're breaking up, above the highest tower
No use in turning round, they'll be on us in an hour
You're gonna fill your cup, helicopters flying round
Don't need to look it up, it's written on the ground



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