Made For Boxes Stop. Go. Red Green. Why don't you train me as your dog? Nine. Five. Con-form. Is it just me or is this wrong? I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what can we do, we've lost all we've held onto. Curse out loud. I swear to God I won't let you come and piss on me! Every day I fight cliche. The fight against conforming brings conformity. The rich get rich. The poor have kids. The whole world's fucked and the skies are gray. Black exhaust coming from your mouth and the mindscape's littered with social decay. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what can we do, we've lost all we've held onto.