I got this new game, I call it Kurt
Escape from New York, meet me in the dirt
I mean no harm, maybe just a little
These are the end of times
Meet me in the middle
Politics, we never vote
Cause you won't hang yourself if
You don't choose a rope, no
We're just a silhouette
Just some hired hands
If money talks then I don't understand

You know it, she knows it
We're burning in the sweet sunshine
We know it, he knows it
Baby, it's the end of times

Lie, cheat, steal, kill, win
Do it like a winner (winner)
The church steals, rapes
Kills and they call you a sinner (sinner)
Set fire to 'em, I'm finna
Attack 'em like a dog off
The leash in a kennel
Fight for the people forever
Will it ever change? No, never
The Devil got control of the winner

We don't make waves, we
Can barely make bubbles, they love it
Chuckle out loud when their
Voice gets smothered
Get with big clips and full leaf dusters
Bust into class and the mass start busting
Guns in our clutches can't be trusted
The war machine will remain uninterrupted
Man'll go nuts trying to tackle the subject
Clutch to the drugs like the
Hand from a mother

You know it, she knows it
We're burning in the sweet sunshine
We know it, he knows it
Baby, it's the end of times

I wrote a song for the party
But I got the words wrong
It was the end of the world
It was a birthday song
So come, pick a tune, sing along, sing along

You know it, she knows it
We're burning in the sweet sunshine
We know it, he knows it
Baby, it's the end of times

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Royalty Network
Writer(s): JAIME MELINE, JAMES GORDON, MICHAEL RENDER, PETER LAWRIE WINFIELD