I don’t need to be a global citizen / Because I’m blessed by nationality / I’m a member of a growing populace / We enforce our popularity
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Everybody needs a slogan in their pocket or two / It never hurts to have a strategy you can go to / Sometimes I have no sense at all / As most flawed men are won’t to do
Maybe it’s too late for an intellectual debate / But a residue of confusion remains / Oh, changing with the times / And developmentally tortured minds
Three thousand miles of wilderness / Overcome by the flow / A lonely restitution of pavement / Pomp and show
Can’t you feel it can’t you see itthe promise of prosperityit’s overwhelming you and meit afflicts us like a diseaseubiquitous compelling toowe cling to you like crazy glueand inject such a potent seedit’s best for all humanitythe spread of culturethe sword of progressthe vector of suffragea warm and septic breezethe pomp and elationthe duty and vocationthe blood of the hybridit’s just a recipere-living our ancestrythe frightful lack of harmonyour fore-fothers who led the waytheir victims are still here todaynow it’s time to erase the storyof our bogus fateour history as it’s portrayedit’s just a recipe for hate
There’s an old man on a city bus holding a candy cane / And it isn’t even Christmas / He see’s a note in the obituary / That his last friend has died
Like a rock, like a planet / Like a fucking atom bomb / I’ll remain unperturbed by the joy and the madness / That I encounter everywhere I turn
Innocents burned alive at the stake / Tortured and dumped in nameless graves / Centuries waned, authority died / Scattering seeds of ancient lies
There’s a place where everyone can be happy / It’s the most beautiful place in the whole fucking world / It’s made of candy canes and planes / And bright red choo-choo trains and the meanest little boys