Tag Archives: your-telephone

Down in the swampy streets of Washington, Along the river in the noonday sun they meet, And they don’t even feel the heat. They’re bought and paid for like a high class whore Completely rotten to the very core, it’s true, That they don’t ever think of you. They look into your bedroom drawer, They look into your mail, They listen to your telephone calls, And maybe put you into jail, They pour the water down your throat, They beat you' til you squeal, And they be telling all your friends, That none of it is real, I gotta say they really hate your guts, They really laughin’ in your face and you just smile, You're watchin TV all the while, Why can’t you see they really hate your guts? You just a slave inside a pretty colored cell, I thought you’d recognize the smell. They look into your bedroom drawer, They look into your mail, They listen to your telephone calls, And then they put you into jail, They pour the water down your throat, They beat you 'til you squeal, And they be telling all your friends, That none of it is real, Down in the swampy streets of Washington, They do their planning for the businesses they run, And you don’t own a single one, You’re bought and paid for like a rich man’s dog, Maybe you’re happy like a well fed hog, okay, But all your freedom’s yesterday. They hate your guts, you know they hate your guts. added by: Progresshiv