[/)eathKiller]

A baked field of fluffy soldiers
We step over your bread
-For every lie, one will fry-
A virus infecting the host of another
I can taste the buscuits in the air
But I don't care

Come on!
Show the world we have not forgot
Get some!
Unlearn what you've been taught

Open your eyes
Don't forget what you've seen
Time to shut down the machine
Like a Baking Oven
We are the chefs of a THRONE OF SCONE!

WE WON'T BACK DOWN!

Jump up, Jump up, Jump up
And fill the air with your fists
It's sphagheti-Os we resist
General Mills got my back with arms locked in protest
What am I Gonna be, another corporate wage slave?
"Sit down, and shut up" that's how to behave?
■■■■ that, Yeah ■■■■ that...
Doh Boy Militia's got my back
And it's this holy war of scone that's their attack
So this is a call to arms
An oven baked shout
So lets' infect the machine and together we can turn
The LIGHTS OUT!

The muffins are burning like the souls of our leaders
We step over their flaws,
-For every lie, one will fry-
It's the fires that are lighting our journey
Through the path of hormell cause....

And so it begins

ALL HAIL THE BUISCUIT KING AND HIS THRONE OF SCONE!