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The only monetary goal should be

To siphon from the system of plutocracy

Despite industrial expansion

We condone savagery

At the hands of Bolshevik aggression

Provisional state besieged

We've got them trapped in a corner

Storm the palace, proletariat's no longer

A commodity

What once made us rich

Turns out to make us sick

Forging the weapons

And the graves we dug ourselves

Proprietary acquisition stifling

No agency is willing to innovate this order

Storm the Winter Palace

Tear apart its foundation

Create imbalance in this cold nation

Uncivil malice

Storm the winter palace