Woorden: Sick Of It All. Insurrection.

Resentful, I'm sure the feeling is mutual
Power for those with the most capital
Upper echelon not in touch at all
Grabbing at straws, desperation

What you gonna do about it?
Where are you gonna run?
What you gonna do about it
That you haven't already done?

No more joy in the lives of the skuoned and exited
Screaming from silence
Pent up inside us, all this frustration
Has bred all this violence

In the commotion power was at hand
In the confusion wealth was up for grabs
Both looked appealing we took all that we could
Control was ours and then we understood

Helpless, I'm sure the feeling is typical
Glory for those with the most capital
Upper echelon we rule with an iron hand
Crushing any insurrection

What you gonna do about it?
There's nothing you can do