Оригинален текст
Scr*p the extras cut out the spareparts let's keep our eyes wide open. fck the
idol reject the star let's feed ourselves some struction. Convention blackmails
creativity this lack of challange kills me. Manipulate the obvious. Cowards
bought by traditionalist manners. Scream at the herd that are heard the most
without substance and with useless banners. The rhymes of revolution. Poetry
written in gasoline. Your art is worth nothing.