: 7 . 12 :

force-feeding my head
a zombie tonic of quick
perfumed death
digital page
after digital slave
preaching endlessly
master of the living
on stage
in person
on demand
foes, frendz, & elbows
respect
grinning teeth
power
fame
gloom
doom
non-smoking day rated rooms
forming the cell
of a strange awakened
hive
serving no one
but their queen
a voice
a soul
commanding ...
rise shadow soldiers, rise.