Anchormen lie through their teeth our eyes are glued to the screen as our ship sinks
Four years come and we cast a vote just like a stone at a shattered glass home
The lesser of two evils is not enough for me but they keep shooting their own feet and then
Sending in the infantry
Drugged by the needle of progress our synapses sends a call of distress
Left to a booth to confess to the gods of privilege and excess
The lesser of two evils is not enough for me but they keep shooting their own feet and then
Sending in the infantry
And all of my friends say "we're getting out while we still can
We're gonna be a little piece of farm land, grow our own food, and smile when we can"