Pontus Peace - Therapise Lyrics

Pray, for the twat bags
Sat in their Westminster lad pad
Donning their blood sodden gladrags
Still wet from all the bodies in Bagdad

Pray, for the dealer
Keeps telling himself he's a healer
But with every cheque the death-toll gets realer
His products a mortality stealer

Pray, for the daughter
Parents ran away from the slaughter
Took their baby over the water
But now she bans the boats that brought her here

Pray, for the rich guy
Daddy never held him when he cried
And now he works all day till his brain's fried
But money never gets you your Dad's pride

Therapise, the powers that be
These chips on their shoulder
They hurt you and me

Therapise, the ones in command
These f*ckers are dangerous
Like kids with guns in their hands

Pray, for the writer
She thought she was the great enlighter
Turns out she was the great inciter
And now it's coming back to bite her

Pray, for the lost souls
Believing that the answer is control
That power is the ultimate end goal
That money's gunna fill up that black hole

Therapise, the powers that be
These chips on their shoulder
They hurt you and me

Therapise, the ones in command
These f*ckers are dangerous
Like kids with guns in their hands