The poison of the curator
The thieving of the auteur
The people that you're marching for ain't people that would march beside
Outside the walls they hide
Behind the windows snide
Open up don't close your eyes wide shut
The secrets of the knowledge class
The ceilings that are made of glass
The people that are born to pass the Others on the rungs they're clinging on
The ones that you used to know
The Others who agree with you
The street divided you live on is united in its hatred