Shit happens, it’s just part of business
But when you see the privileged get rich
And the poor get privi-livatized
You ask who controls the statistics
The same ones who control the ballistics
And their friends who control the logistics
To send guns overseas and bring back bodies
Ain’t nothin changed but the chain
Since the days of the slave trade
Now we’re slaves of day traders
Who go on a raid, lay your country to waste
And find you a place in the production chain
Just another case for statistics
So we need to be religious
Because it’s not rational
Our lives get rationalized
Like religion get nationalized
Can it belong to the land
When it came from the sky?
And nationality becomes holier
The more holes it gets, as a concept,
As a border, as a cause for martyrs
As a demographic reality
Every black drop is a hole in the holy whole
Or is it so?
Is not every chunk of coal who turns into a diamond
A reason to keep the mine
Like every fine is a reason to keep the crime?
That’s the purpose of sound management
It all makes sense when you count the cents


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