The Coup - You Are Not a Riot lyrics

You, you are not a riot You are right wing terror military a**ault You, you are not rebellion You are a pretty piece of paper which is signed by murderers You, you are not a riot You are the tight leather pants on the old ex-general You, you are not rebellion I got the invite to your party and I threw it away You, you are not a riot You're an apologetic pad for the judge's gavel You, you are not rebellion You are a sitcom based on a torture chamber You, you are not a riot You are the fanfare for the king's drunken vomit You, you are not rebellion I got the invite to your party and I threw it away A rebellion is both love and lust And a riot is when lightning hits the right spot And my painting isn't finished till it k**s you And it makes you feel more powerful than pills do A rebellion is both love and lust And a riot is when lightning hits the right spot And my painting isn't finished till it k**s you And it makes you feel more powerful than pills do You, you are not a riot You are a condo complete with wall to wall carpet bomb You, you are not rebellion You're a well funded beat down in the boss's washroom You, you are not a riot You're the cold fish breath of d**h at my neck You, you are not rebellion I got the invite to your party and I threw it away You fascist fashionista You imperial chanteuse You upper, crusty punk You pillager's excuse You duke and disciple of disconnection Who fel**tes the Empire State Building blank space on your paper Matching blank looks on your face A rebellion is both love and lust And a riot is when lightning hits the right spot And my painting isn't finished till it k**s you And it makes you feel more powerful than pills do A rebellion is both love and lust And a riot is when lightning hits the right spot And my painting isn't finished till it k**s you And it makes you feel more powerful than pills do You get hyped by the font in the d**h warrant By the grain of the wood in the electric chair The accent of the undertaker By the architecture of police stations By the reflection on the gun By the crackle of the flame You get hyped by the aesthetic of rebellion No questions asked You are not a riot