Lyrics:

Force fed more than we eat in the wild
Grazed on a mash that can suffocate a child
Bloated, promoted in an ode to pomp and style
Moistened in the feed while we choke upon the bile

Corner in the market on the geese without the bones
Hushing out the public in a strike without a drone
The cage became collapsible, our sticks equipped with stones
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone

Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone

Hello Motherfucker
My lover
You saw it coming

Set aside the scruples in a stratagem of strain
A smallpox-laden blanket, invisible with stains
Inoculated bastards, bloody pecked pain
Distemper has a hold, distemper has a hold

We took a second sip from a cup we made of bones
The first sip was a ruse, a trick so aptly thrown
The truth is that our youth was a carpet laid with stones
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone

Hello Motherfucker
My lover
You saw it coming

Goodbye Motherfucker
My lover
You saw it coming

Get the motherfucker on the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone

Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone
Get the motherfucker on the phone, the phone