Tekst:
Hiretsukan

Not a sound breaks the surface just the dull grind of supplyside theory and tiamina doubleshifts. This is tough love metered by quotas and piecerates

Age four. White walls. Through a door. Shadow falls. Say uncle, it's okay. Say uncle, it's okay. Hands reached through cloth and skin. Never again. One

Live on location, the frontlines beamed a quiet room behind double locked doors. This just in, through static and snow, through smashed glass and teargas