Song parody of
Cutting Edge
by Souls Are Hidden
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The cutting edge of their switchblade has impaired us
But we still stand strong
We are legion, and we know their names and faces
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
Hands all over the ways by which we make our names
Feed our families
"Hand over the rights to your bodies," they always say
Left with no autonomy
Ownership is government (government, government)
And I refuse to be ruled (to be ruled)
And kept down on my knees, on my fucking knees
By the likes of you
Take your gilded blades out our fucking backs
Stick them into your fucking necks
Awaken the mass from slumber
Fuck a fair fight, strength in numbers
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
Chewed up, spit out, bitten, twisted, downward shifted
Trauma factory, we lived it and then we relived it
Cyclical, generational, familial
Instead of folk songs, we passed down your filthy fucking
Capital
Capitalist punishment
A punishment fit for a fascist
Ice will rain down for eternity
But first, guillotine
Take your gilded blades out our fucking backs
Stick them into your fucking necks
Awaken the mass from slumber
Fuck a fair fight, strength in numbers
The cutting edge of their switchblade has impaired us
But we still stand strong
We are legion, and we know their names and faces
So we rise with the setting sun
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
The cutting edge of their switchblade has impaired us
But we still stand strong
We are legion, and we know their names and faces
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
Hands all over the ways by which we make our names
Feed our families
"Hand over the rights to your bodies," they always say
Left with no autonomy
Ownership is government (government, government)
And I refuse to be ruled (to be ruled)
And kept down on my knees, on my fucking knees
By the likes of you
Take your gilded blades out our fucking backs
Stick them into your fucking necks
Awaken the mass from slumber
Fuck a fair fight, strength in numbers
So we rise with the setting sun
So we rise with the setting sun
Chewed up, spit out, bitten, twisted, downward shifted
Trauma factory, we lived it and then we relived it
Cyclical, generational, familial
Instead of folk songs, we passed down your filthy fucking
Capital
Capitalist punishment
A punishment fit for a fascist
Ice will rain down for eternity
But first, guillotine
Take your gilded blades out our fucking backs
Stick them into your fucking necks
Awaken the mass from slumber
Fuck a fair fight, strength in numbers
The cutting edge of their switchblade has impaired us
But we still stand strong
We are legion, and we know their names and faces
So we rise with the setting sun
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
We are the rust in the nail in your coffin
