Made In MI

by Hundo

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1.
05:36
2.
04:37
3.
03:20
4.
02:58
5.
03:44
6.
04:09
7.
04:55
8.
04:50
9.
03:48
10.
11.

credits

released November 1, 2018

Written/Produced by: Hundo
Mastered by: Kevin Pritchard (Bigger Brush Media)

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all rights reserved

tags

about

Hundo Grand Rapids, Michigan

Metal Fusion:
Made In MI

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Track Name: Soundcheck (Break The Silence)
Muffled bombs on the horizon,
as smoke fills up the skies,
and all the bodies pile up
as all the pilots fly by 'em.

Limbs left in the wreckage,
little kids sit wrecked and deafened,
missing children wished to heaven,
siblings lives lost with the message.

Translations fuzzy,
transmissions got lost?
Bet they probably didn’t even really matter though,
bet ya the lines just got crossed - yo,

This is just a soundcheck
a scream for every town wrecked.
For every mother and her unborn,
killed within her gown, slept.

How many babies
does one bomb abort?
How many lives left up in the rubble
for each cord cut short?

We hidin' in the bubble,
takin' fake reports,
while our leaders, they cut the funding,
then hideaway in resorts.

Executive disorder,
keep your eyes upon the borders,
take a nation and distract it,
then start the war with secret orders.

Attract the dumbest supporters,
subtract their pension, leave ‘em quarters.
Blame someone else for the all tension,
leave ‘em all exchangin’ mortars.

Science isn’t fact, and never trust the reporters.
A picture isn’t proof, tighten down on those orders.

Video ain’t conclusive, it’s an alternate view,
The House is gettin’ shaky, floor is fallin’ through

(cuz we’re gettin’) sold to the China shop,
while the bullshit's on parade.
The wall ain’t fuckin’ fallin’,
it’s a curtain for his charade.

Fake peace on the pipeline,
while wannabe’s swap debates.
Revealin' our truest nature;
The New United Hates.

So, make us great again,
to say that we were great to begin;
with hoods as white and wrinkled
as their own dead skin.

Set to see the cities burn,
lit, bright into the night,
as we teach the kids to turn…shit...
...right to the fight.

See, the pipelines and the white lines,
yeah, they're drawn out in the sand -
throwin' back that canister of gas
grasped up in the palm of your hand.

Indigenous bloodline,
pawns of the land.
No fuckin’ witnesses, that front line
it was gone before it began.

Burnt like crosses in the lawns
in the early dawns of the autumn,
when leaves are dead like souls,
tree’s keep the secrets that we taught ‘em.

The nooses are loosened,
and we all know why they bought ‘em.
Cuz history hangs the heroes,
every single time it’s caught ‘em.

They say they're raising the bar,
but they wanna drop the blade.
This is not an alt-war,
it’s a fuckin’ chauvinist charade.

It’s time to rush to the top,
as the top rush to get paid;
they got our nuts on the block,
so go nuts on the blockade.

They regulate your health,
after speculatin’ your wealth.
reppin’ true heavy metal,
these fuckers steppin' in stealth.

Soon we’ll be watchin' for landmines,
no calls out but the landlines,
tightenin’ down on the knot
and got the whole world’s hands tied.

They’ll do their best to diminish you
while they put you to the test.
They’ll never stop until they’ve finished you,
silenced just like the rest.
So just wait til you get a limit too,
ration what you ingest,
Spendin' every day hidden under cover,
placin' your faith up in a vest.

They’re stormin’ the doors,
slammin’ the people to the floors,
Doesn’t matter 'til it happens to you,
now the knockin’s at yours.
Shotguns cockin’, bodies droppin’,
See a sea of feet, then you see no more.
Innocent eyes, they close forever,
then it’s on to next door.

Separate the children,
stand ‘em in a line.
send 'em all to detention centers,
like living is a crime.
Pilin’ angels in the cages,
as the devil’s set to dine -
Welcome to Hell on earth,
born from the sins of the divine.

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