Tyrant (by Aran P.Ink and Bertie, ft. p-kill)

from Fourth Strike Song Jam 2023 by Fourth Strike Records

Week 3 - emulating the style of Hacktivist

Tyrant (ft. p-kill) by Aran P. Ink ( apink.bandcamp.com ) and Bertie (@HeyItsBertie)

Strapped for battle, but we didn't start the culture war
hexed, oppressed, our very sex begets a life of gore
effeminate lurkers, degenerate perverts, we're crashing your servers,
we're teaching your daughter to fight for herself 'cause you never deserved her 

we're the resistance
don't need your permission, you don't get to miss this
war of attrition
if you keep talking shit, put your face where my fist is

YOUR 
TIME 
HAS 
COME
AND
GONE

sitting high on a throne,
for as long as she's known
you've treated her body a thing you own
your creed guarantees that her needs are heedless,
she'll eat what you feed or starve alone 
for atonement, lips sealed shut and sewn up,
choking down pain to assuage a grown-up,
the King of All Things, a man who still brings
the love to his kids with a hand of stone
 
This coward
demands that she cower 
in awe of his power, and
scour herself of the notion  
that she could be powerful, too
what would you do? 
Climb up the tower and leap from the roof?
pocket a dagger and wait 'til he staggers 
to wrestle your truth from the brute?
I think you'd choose what a child would do
and assume that you've earned the abuse

YOU
DON'T
DESERVE
THE
ABUSE

Strapped for battle, but we didn't start the culture war
hexed, oppressed, our very sex begets a life of gore
effeminate lurkers, degenerate perverts, we're crashing your servers,
we're teaching your daughter to fight for herself 'cause you never deserved her 

we're the resistance
don't need your permission, you don't get to miss this
war of attrition
if you keep talking shit, put your face where my fist is

YOUR 
TIME 
HAS 
COME
AND
GONE

you're the ones who
led your young astray
we're the wolves you
fuckers failed to raise

you resent us for attempting
to survive without guile or repentance
we're out here swinging for the fences
a revenge so sweet, it's offensive
let our voices be the wrenches
chucked in the clockwork heart of your pension
your offenses are defenseless,
and we sentence you to the endless void

where your own kids have the good sense
to pretend that you never existed.  


WE WILL NOT SIT IN SILENCE
YOU CAN'T CONTAIN THIS VIRUS
WE WILL MEET FORCE WITH VIOLENCE
IT'S EVER THUS TO TYRANTS