Jazz from the Clocktower

Good evening. And greetings. Let yourself be... With a feeling of ease. Android scrappers ready for mutiny, while Ghetto G salutes the cyborg community. An opportunity to move the scene, we broadcast groovy beats in unity. What you're hearing is words of mysticism, obscure lyricism to cure cynicism. A mental case hailing from a metal hell, trying to escape the decaying mental maze. So just kick back. Unwind your mind. Zone out... And relax... Troubled goblins rolling to rob robots, as well as throw rocks at the pop bogus. Ghetto G, taking a stand, making demands. The greater plan left in our Creator's hands. Missing prominence in the metropolis, the populace failed to live prosperously. Completely autonomous, even the sky was forged. They lied to us. Now the cyborgs are ready to die for the cause. The citadel descending into chaos, witnessing citizens in a dissenting séance. The middlemen used relentless surveillance, now the artificial pretenders must obey us. Growing unease, a bold plea to let souls free. The controlling leaders let the overseers coldly treat folds of people like lower beings. So we employ the Shields to cover the streets, as the dreaded drones seek to destroy all peace. This is jazz from the clocktower, watching over the rotten powers. As the downtrodden riot to the end, we feel inclined to say... The citadel shall rise again. So just kick back. Unwind your mind. Zone out... And relax... Good evening...