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This Treasure

de Congress MusicFactory

Fill your body with junk and filth, then cure it with expensive pills,
abcesses impossible to be released,
infected inside, pale face to hide.
Your health is a disaster, narcotics make your heart beats faster.
The doctor you call master.
Cancer-clusters, grown into your system,
disease spreads like a fire.
My sweat is your medicine, my profit become your pills.
A leech feeding on the wrists of society's bliss.
Nicotine, caffeine and saturated fat, enjoy it while you can.
No matter how bad you live your pathetic life,
the state will pay all your bills.
A pill to make you numb, another to make you dumb.
Once you're down, you'll never make it up.
The threat above your head, finally you'll end up dead

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