Fear, Itself

No more chess, no more queen's gambit, thank you
Now's the time for sudocoups
Fuck fake news and fuck you too
Open your eyes and join the queue

It's time to crash this party
Pick a side or a bone
It's time to pour the tea
Take a red pill or a pillow

The message's pretty clear
It's written in capitol letters
The future, the end is near
It can only get bitter

All things seem confirmation
Bros and urobros
All of us high on information
Stuffed sick with sloppy joes

I wonder who started that caravan
That small town serenade
That storms and drops
Into darker days