Lyrics

It’s like midnight on a Sunday in a small southern town.
Everywhere I want to go has been shut down.
Move at your own discretion.
I smell the stench of suspicion.
This looks like the work from the architects of oppression.

You can tell me that you want to try and keep me safe.
But if you keep me locked inside and I go insane….
I’m still a contagious threat who craves sunshine for happiness.
I feel like a sitting duck on a sinking ship.

Well the bills are piling up and my stress won’t pass.
There’s no paper on the shelves to blow my nose or wipe my …
No work, no play, no school in session.
We’re the 99% in depression.
This smells of the work of the architects of oppression.