I'm not complainin of days left behind I'm just lookin for somethin To slow down the time

For four fortnights I have fled from my fortress Foraging forests five footsteps in length Fortitude found within forty ounce bottles Flowing like flies from your face From your face

I just wanna hear you say sorry to me I leave the room to cry I finally eat something

Held under these smothering waves By your strong and thick-veined hand But one of these days I'm going to wriggle up on dry land

we took all the flags down and now you can watch the kids hit the tetherball around we took all the flags down and now gonna find me a hill and just lay on down

And we say hallelujah, we're all fuckin' weird And there's a place for you at the table, honey, here

And I got to thinking that If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven Might go to heaven But probably not

We can't wait for someone else to write the songs that we'll sing on the barricades Or until the last police is gone to keep each other safe We can't wait 'til we know we aren't wrong to raise the stakes

and we grow tougher than we feared that we'd ever be forced to and more tender then we had ever thought possible

It's not the kids fault that their dad went to jail And it's not their fault there's no food in the house And Santa Claus doesn't visit their part of town And I heard a man once say that the last shall be first Unless he only meant that for white Christians

Do you feel convicted Because the people you protect Are sickly No one likes your system Cuz everyone is a victim

Life lessons like a softball to the socket How do I make food out of the crumbs inside my pocket? It’s the alchemy of the modern age Giving up on the chase for the American Dream Yeah I’d sooner believe in Santa Claus

your head a mess of guilt and blood-soaked bedsheets you left in the dark of morning with your head down you learned the curves of the road like the shape of his subversive body winter morning on your windshield, running on empty

Shore up the crucifixes Above the archways and the doors The magpie will come at midday And you will go down on all fours

admin // we got more time than we expected, but twitter finally changed their API access and our backend is down. don’t know if/when we’ll be back on Twitter, but in the meantime we are still going on Mastodon! Find us at linktr.ee/folkpunkbot

the bots that post hourly cute pictures of like foxes and chinchillas and capybaras are banned, while the onlyfans bots that put stolen naked pictures under every other tweet are only getting more numerous

Mangle APIs but only for wholesome bots with no funds to run scams and then pretend the good bots never existed to make your site seem even worse

It sucks that all the cool twitter bots have been replaced by ChatGPT powered bots that have Pepe avatars that read the tweet they were pointed at and expertly calculate the least funny response possible.

I miss the folk punk bot

Elon killed the infant in the crib