The weed
Feeding from the back door
It wants to control the masses
Under its magical spell
The rain of sweet talking
It wants to sound good
The weed
It will take control of the minds
There is no exchange of needs
It doesn't need protests or arguments
It needs the people to be obedient
Do not question the wrong
The weed
Pop up in the eyes
It is wrong indeed
The back door just pushes in
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