Milonga Del Recuerdo

And the Songbird sings... (It's Infinite) This is for the voices who are unheard Who never back-talked one word to theSongbird This is for the second class citizens, and prisoners locked alone I bring a list of things the prophet wants you not to know I've got to blow the propaganda out the box and so Open up the rift and put this disc into your Voxophone I'll take your brain to places it doesn't often go So brace yourself for take off and watch the show I'm properly known as Booker DeWitt And I've had enough of this shit Fed up of being stuck in a rut So I'm looking to rough up a couple of pricks And accomplish a mission to look for a woman imprisoned and stuck in a city where something's amiss Like the rhythm the government's drumming to whip the anger of the people Daily handling the stress While I've just ambled in from gambling and landed in a mess And I'm telling ya, Elizabeth isn't a damsel in distress She's the damn best wingman to ever don a dress To be honest, we've loads of things In common, we both can bring an opening We're probably closer twins Than Robert and Rosalind I throw my grapple and aim To blow the back of your brain out And contemplate on why we play those irrational games My main foe is Zachary Hale Comstock The day his reign begun, a fundamental bomb dropped Columbia's on lockdown Every day they're destroying somebody, so what now? Send for Daisy Fitzroy The rich get fatter, while the slums are getting hungrier It's a matter of time before they pull the rug from under you We'll make your money disappear from you like a conjurer And overthrow the fundies that are plundering Columbia So, I know this is absurd and sounds bananas But have you observed the way they worship founding fathers? That's why the Vox Populi have hurtled out the darkness Emerged, about to start to turn around and clout this heartlessness If this disc is flying, you'll be dying like you're Hyacinth Hirelings or higher things Vox Populi's guys or Jeremiah Fink's If they pile in on me, then they're receive undying violence I'll lynch the pious kings with the silent wire strings From the tiny violins that won't be crying when they're lying singed Ignite the tinder, set the sky alight in flights of cinders And let freedom ring inside your cries like the singer That's like trying to hide your violent injuries, as if they're minor things, by keeping just a tiny thimble on your finger One hand holds Vigors The other pulls triggers I'm a multi-tasking action man with a glass full of malt liquor Salt licker Rapture's contraptions are fantastic But don't exist yet, so that is how we pack Plasmids No need to hack gadgets The manner in which I battle a Handym