D A
Let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,
C G
We have seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea,
D A
Syntactic is our elegance, incisive our disease,
C G D
The swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary,
D A
We've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its breast,
C G
Grandiloquent our attitude, impassioned yet inept,
D A
Frivolous gavel our design, ludicrous our threat,
C G D
Excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less,
A
So what does it mean?
F C
When we tell ourselves it's only for a while we have been deceived
A# F
And it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day make
C A#
Life easier to complicate, the treasure thrown away,
G G# F G G# F
I'm so tired of all the fucked up minds
G G# F G G# F
Of all the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines,
G G# F G G# F
Of all the hand-me-downs from all industrial crimes
G G# F G G# F
And the weeping mothers and those who are led so blind,
G G# F G G# F
From the plastic protests and the hands of time
G G# F G G# F
And the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind