Mister Floyd, I don’t got a gun to shoot or point,

But I understand some don’t have a choice

You’re out there somewhere hiding
And I’m here writing.

Mister Floyd, maybe these bullets are like you and I
Born into war and forced to fly
Maybe we were meant to stand and be the living change
That we wanted to see right now, right here today

The detective’s on his way and he’s made up his mind
‘Said there’s gon’ be hell to pay ‘for ya serve anytime
If hell’s the currency they take- the check’s been in the mail
-
Chorus
For the past four-hundred years walkin’ on thin air
In this American Nightmare
They advertised and sold as a dream
We don’t wake up ‘til we die in our sleep
Turnin’ the wheels to another machine.
-
Mister Floyd, we can buy a lot, but there’s little we can keep
You can go for the ride, but ya can’t have the keys
Before they’d see a village rise against kings and queens
They’d condition a new drug and push it into your veins

We say it’s on, but from the looks it was never off
So we settle and say well that’s just the way things are
Have ya ever wondered what the hell we’re all here for
Yea, yea

Engine’s roll around the block droppin’ shells and keys
Thieves pick a lotta locks, but they never get free
Somebody’s puppeteerin’ all this mass hysteria
They set the stage up in North Philadelphia

Chorus

Mister Floyd