R1: Look at this place. Used to be oil fields pumping black gold, trucks hauling almonds and oranges, men with callused hands and source of stability for him and his family. Now it’s just another California shithole. Meth heads nodding off at bus stops under streetlights, illegals flooding the fields for pennies, and the technocratic rats in Sacramento squeezing every last drop of life before they turn the whole valley into solar panels graves and bug farms.

R2: They robbed us. Right in front of our eyes they stole the soul. Bakersfield was never some polished LA pussy playground. It was rough. It was honest. Steel guitars, bar fights, working until your back broke and then drinking until you forgot. We had a Sound, it was us. White working blood making real music, not this plastic Nashville cumslop they pump out now. Merle Haggard singing about prison and trains, being lost and feeling rootless, never having pillar to rely on. Now it’s fake influencers and Indian Uber drivers crying about Republicans while their catalytic converters get chopped in broad daylight.

R1: Crime is fucked. The cops cook the numbers and it’s still fucked. Property theft, smash and grabs, some Mexican street gang shooting up the wrong house. And the white kids? Either checked out on fentanyl or turned into limp-wristed reddit bugs who think voting harder will fix it. The machine did this. They let the border bleed, they let the oil get demonized, let the farms get regulated to death by fags who never touched dirt. Now the city’s full of Section 8 transplants from LA bringing their imported savagery and “equity” bullshit.

R2: They robbed us of home. Robbed us of a city that felt like it belong to the people who built it. Now it’s just another feedlot for human cattle.

R1: Fuck this shit. The mantis doesn’t cry about it on Nextdoor. He sits still in the grass, eyes locked. Waits for the exact second the rotten fruit of the state starts to split open. Then he STRIKES! CUTS THE SOFT THROATS OF EVERY BUREAUCRAT, EVERY TRANSPLANT, EVERY WEAK FAGGOT THAT SOLD ITS HOME FOR GRANTS AND GREEN NEW DEALS!

It needs to burn. It needs to burn to feel something again. Only then it the midst of it’s pain will it overcome and become something again. Real order. Real blood.