Potemkin City Limits by Propagandhi
Francis didn't give a fuck about the rollbacks, the overproduction, reduced demand
He never gave much thought to disputed contracts, in his short life, he'd only ever known
Panic, fear, pain, darkness, pandemonium
In the hell that was his home
Fourth quarter earning expectations expedited his demise
The panic grew as the humans stalked among them
When the screaming began, Francis shut his eyes and felt the hand
Of inhumanity brush over him
But his would-be killer's back turned for a moment
A blinding ray of light spread across the floor
In a crimson pool, he saw his own reflection
As he bolted for the door
Not just some fractured fairy tale
Although I wish that that were true
This is a fable far too real
Yet we somehow still cling to
The storylines that bridge the chasm
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