c7
Suburbs tremble again, fearing the have-nots at the window, collecting their fair
share. guns and alarms aren’t enough. they demand justice, and every criminal locked
away, as well as any kid wh
c7
Ht do something wrong. there’s a jail out of town with fences so high we won’t think
about who’s inside. neighbours are disappearing behind the bars. kids are doing time
for petty crimes. it don
c7
Tter who they are. it don’t matter that they’re alive. a warehouse for victims of
circumstance. cops are rounding up slaves; workers that can’t complain or come late.
a workforce behind bars. th
c6
Make gadgets, circuit boards or fix cars. it don’t matter who they are. it don’t
matter that they’re alive. crime pays, ask the bankers floating bonds to build cages
for the inner-city’s «
c5
HandsЎ± instead of schools. factories with fences meet the prisons without walls. we
shall have your skulls. they’ll kick you to the ground. you’ll find yourself employed
again. on the inside.
4
