The fight that brews inside my head
Gathers up to force and might
I stammer with intention
And the knowing of what is right
Who are we all in this dreaded, apocalyptic day?
With the gloss of a better tomorrow
Well it’s just something they just say
Whoa girl! Whoa girl! Whoa girl!
See the flowers and the trees
Idle your strong engine
Get down upon your knees
Let us buy you with some flattery
We will get you everywhere indeed
We can pull apart your rage
And you can live like a song bird
In a tinny tiny cage
The cage paid for by rich men
The song a patriotic wail
You may sing up to the heavens
But you’re feet in bought off hell
Who dares to severe ties?
From the thousand money lies?
Some kiss the lips of demons
You know just what I mean
The wing tipped little monster
Who is pissing in our streams
His suits and ties of tyranny
Reeks havoc on our destiny
as if the very moon we owned
He grabbed it for himself alone
Then with his gaping gasping mouth
In our over heated June
he dons some tights and ballet shoes
as he whacks off a charming tune
(then plays the art buffoon)
oh quiet little missy
a party down the street
clinking champangne glasses
and something great to eat !
Where checks they can be written
but check your mind as well !!
run go party up to heaven
with the golden caring swells
now all together please
on the count of three!!!!
All together please on the count of three!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!weeeeeeeeee!!
Sing ring around a rosy
and life is la de da
With things to do and places great
And clothes and food to thrill (louder)
Let’s toast to art and money
And houses on a hill
And yachts all in the harbor
And wine up to
Forget we’re fucked and fucked again
But not against our will