|
Anchormen spike their blood |
|
Wear masks of mud |
|
Cucumbers cut to fit their eyes |
|
And so no one would know |
|
How tired they've grown |
|
Of talking and telling their lies |
|
While your tvs change stations |
|
Scroll messages, victims |
|
And christians both drink in blood |
|
And they pray for the destruction of all hatred |
|
More often, just those with hate for us |
|
Cause it hurts when you discover |
|
One's worse and one's better |
|
To suffer or cause others to |
|
And you can live by your conscience |
|
Now guilt is a concept |
|
You're no longer subscribing to |
|
There's a virgin in my bed |
|
And she's taking off her dress |
|
And I'm not sure what I am gonna do |
|
There's a song stuck in my head |
|
And I can't help singing it |
|
But how I hope my singing pleases you |
|
Cause I am not who I've become |
|
But what you'd made me into |
|
Oh got no health insurance |
|
No cellular service |
|
No disease they can cure |
|
But we need more money to burn |
|
So each person must learn |
|
The dollar amount they are worth |
|
And your pills make me dizzy |
|
Forgetting my body |
|
I watch as it walks away |
|
And I'll just keep drinking the poison |
|
And smoking the cartons |
|
A pack and a half a day |
|
So when time comes to claim me |
|
My friends and my family |
|
Will gather around my grave |
|
And they'll believe that they knew me |
|
And loved me and miss me |
|
And all call me by my name |
|
So imagine what you want |
|
And then hold on to that thought |
|
Cause that's as close as it will ever come |
|
And believe you're where you are |
|
Keep acting out the part |
|
At the end of the day |
|
The trees all get wheeled away |
|
And you'll be standing alone |
|
In a blank blank space |
|
So believe you're who you are |
|
And just stay in character |
|
But at the end of the play |
|
The audience walks away |
|
And I'll be shivering cold |
|
On a well-lit stage |