"They've got nothing on you, babyyyy.

Nothing on you..."

We'll leave.

They cannot force us to stop.

They can put us in costumes.

They can splat on useless makeup.

They can dress us up for the final rehearsal.

Then...

We will march away.

Through the jungles with our fancy suits and bow ties.

They'll see the dirt beneath our fingernails, and know where we've been.

Don't try to control other people's lives. We're not robots.

We stared intently, looking for I don't know what. But there was nothing to see, just groups of jovial people, hurrying from one place to another in the cold evening.