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They were digging a new foundation in Manhattan |
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And they discovered a slave cemetery there |
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May their souls rest easy now that lynching is frowned upon |
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And we've moved on to the electric chair |
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And I wonder who's gonna be president |
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Tweedle Dumb or Tweedle Dumber? |
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And who's gonna have the big |
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Blockbuster box office |
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This summer |
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How 'bout we put up a wall |
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Between the houses and the highway |
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And then you can go your way |
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And I can go my way |
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Except all the radios agree with all the TV's |
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And all the magazines agree with all the radios |
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And I keep hearing that same damn song |
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Everywhere I go |
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Maybe I should put a bucket over my head |
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And a marshmallow in each ear |
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And stumble around for another dumb numb week |
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For another hum drum hit song to appear |
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People used to make records |
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As in a record of an event |
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The event of people |
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Playing music in a room |
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Now everything is cross-marketing |
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It's about sunglasses and shoes |
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Or guns or drugs |
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You choose |
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We got it rehashed |
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We got it half-assed |
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We're digging up all the graves |
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And we're spitting on the past |
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And we can choose between the colors |
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Of the lipstick on the whores |
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Cuz we know the difference |
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Between the font of twenty percent more |
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And the font of teriyaki |
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You tell me |
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How does that make you feel? |
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You tell me what's real |
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They say that alcoholics are always alcoholics |
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Even when they're dry as my lips for years |
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Even when they're stranded on a small desert island |
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With no place in two thousand miles to buy beer |
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And I wonder is he different |
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Is he different |
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Has he changed |
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What he's about |
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Or is he just a liar |
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With nothing to lie about |
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Am I headed for the same brick wall |
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Is there anything I can do |
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About anything at all |
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Except go back to that corner in Manhattan |
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And dig deeper |
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Dig deeper this time |
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Down beneath the impossible pain of our history |
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Beneath unknown bones |
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Beneath the bedrock of the mystery |
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Beneath the sewage system and the path train |
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Beneath the cobblestones and the water main |
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Beneath the traffic of friendships and street deals |
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Beneath the screeching of kamikaze cab wheels |
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Beneath everything I can think of to think about |
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Beneath it all |
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Beneath all get out |
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Beneath the good and the kind and the stupid and the cruel |
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Ther'es a fire that's just waiting for fuel |
