Pugnacious Fallacies

Leaning toward another world
A world of the elite
Infected spider on your skin
Bite me again and again
Locked inside your medieval maze
No way inside to infect the sign

All bets off...the turbo psycho
Locked in logic
Main streets on the way

You are made of plastic and all your world is fake

You are made of plastic
With all your pugnacious fallacies.
We're the society,
Society of the elite.