[Verse 1]

Thank the loyal servants for being so loyal

Soon they'll be happy and very safe;

If not, sent off like a pigeon with his head cut off

If it wasn't for the guillotine, there would be no umbilical

Cord. isn't it pitiful? at our pinnical

They make it sound so pinnocchio

That's how I know it's so dumb, it could even write its own article

Give me a break, the great big break that breaks your back

And chews my fingers off

'til it's safe to laugh again, or at them

Put the coals back in my eyes again

And away from the fire that burns out our loved ones

And takes its toll out on me

Cause good luck is always keeping minutes

We gotta stay in play, don't run out of tokens

Plus the machine needs warm bodies

Plug the pipes if you still got skulls;

If there's time to muddy the hands

Then there's time to study the flow of the blood in the lay of the land

Running off and eroding relatives

With red, white, and blue christmas lights

In the greatest kingdom. I say it's a crop and I'm a lousy meal

A lousy liar amongst so many bad actresses

And not enough stimuli left to light an oven pilot

So how can I not be negative?

My own cliche, my would-be peers

More caught up with image than speaking the truth

And if that's the only truth you can come up with, go fake some bravery

Like the rented camaraderie in the human lottery

Whatever year it is, I'm still sick

Can't hate the sky for being gray

Or the bad poem that we live out every day

Twenty minutes outside the city, or fifteen years from over the hill

With enough time to kill brain cells to fry;

You all gonna fry with me

It must be, you all gonna fry with me...

[Bridge]

We who die in more flying accidents than firefights;

No cure of the overkill

[Verse 2]

Forty year-old women with cakes and carriages singing bible hymns

Ain't fixing anything; get your picket signs

Go on strike, get a five cent raise; your a champion. now

They're making model citizens out of your children

Mapping personal growth through frivolousness; so separated

Yet drugged up to nowhereland. even love feels artificial;

Happiness, my loaded pistol

In the '20s, I'd have been a socialist in a Colorado coal mine

But it's 2000-something and the deaf rats love their mazes

It's all so ethnospecific and opinionated

Divided we take our antidepressants and make our appointments

Let the dolphins die, who's gonna save the humans?

I've been to a million cities and they're all the same:

People laugh and talk the same

Girls all flirt the same, employees all dream the same

Love your grid and your comfort zone

Look out for the white-girl suicide bombers

Look out for your time or your peace of mind

Or entertainment above the fifth grade level

Stay ignorant and easily corralled through conservative reforms

'til we're broke from the half-measures

Taxed to the teeth to fund the caste system

Living it up for our stereotypes

And I know nothing, but at least I know;

While they vote green and drink their espressos

Discussing film festivals, all as a write-off. off with your head;

Body loves the dirty work

Love your job, but it will never love you like an automobile

Fetuses, peoples, and angels hang the same on the mobile

If it wasn't for the blindfold, you'd ask

"what am I looking for, living for, breathing for?"

"who's them? not I, but it must be the plutonium in me."

[Outro]

It must be the plutonium in me...