You can choose to fight or you can choose to pray
but you better get it right, cos it's judgement day.
too many hungry in the world today
too many pictures that are shades of grey
too many pens with nothing to say
too many people have been led astray
and we better get it right, cos it's judgement day

Van Gogh goes ga-ga with his palette-knife
greens and golds, against the night
layers it thick to express his life
throw ink at the wall, it'll come out right
use both hands cos you're in a fight

Hey Bill Gates, waddya say? I challenge you now to a public debate
one poor man against one rich fake, call me anytime I'm always awake
to inherent possibilities for me and mine, expose the machinations of your global crimes
I'm friendly to children most of the time
but I'd pulverise your ass with some busted rhymes

you might have Jay-Z in your sales campaign, investin in Vista, he's playing the game
Brooklyn song-bird, now throatless slave, all we've go for dinner is what the food-bank gave
but you can't buy me, because I'm not for sale

you can work ten jobs with no pension plan
get fired for stopping when you need the can
get shot full of holes in a parking lot
when d'you think these pigs are ever gonna stop?

well there's peasant blood running through my veins
and peasant pride, devoid of shame
my grandad couldn't read, but it starts to fade
I'm cheering the Titanic as it sails away
cos my family NEVER earned a decent wage
live free rebels, or die as slaves
where I'm from a muddy ditch is a boss's grave
tribal warriors, on center stage.

truckers cause a ruckus on the old freeway
why dumb down when you've things to say?
we're writing the book, and we're turning the page
blue-collar shakespeares strutting the stage
and we better get it right, because it's judgement day


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