Empty Suits: A Punker’s Refrain

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Scrunched blonde hair,

‘cept for the roots,

trapped in their laptops, they’re just

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

Public schools,

training PC shoots,

state-run fools wearing,

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

Who do you admire?

The straights or the fruits?

Stop with your judging, they’re all

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

Smiling bankers,

divvy up the loot,

blind, greedy wankers,

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

A brood of vipers,

the clergy’s in cahoots,

empty words swell from empty robes,

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

Nailed to the tree,

mocked by their hoots,

Love gettin’ butchered by them,

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits! Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

Waitin’ for the day

when God humbles all those brutes,

then His love’s gonna fill all their

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

They don’t know

in their philosophical pursuits

that love’s huntin’ them, they’re just

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

 

It’s not up to you,

He’s the living root,

That’ll blossom in the buttonhole of all them

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suit -za!

 

Alright, we’re done

Not lookin’ for recruits,

that’s all you’re gonna get from these

empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!  Empty suits!

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