The solar system calling an end
Out there if a flag of truth were raised we could watch every liar
The rhythmic clicking on and off of computers
Where there's life for hire
I am foraging for a phone booth on the forest floor that is not so soft
Where the ground is getting harder and it was not that soft before
Where the sun rarely filters down
But it's just the sun setting
To another business day
They build buildings to house people making money
Playwright, birthright, same thing
Underneath the corporate canopy
The pulse of the American machine
Rise to wave it here
Or they build buildings to make money off of housing people
The ground is not so soft, not so soft
We're all rehearsing for the presidency
Those who call the shots are never in the line of fire, why
I always wanted to be commander in chief
But I can envision the mediocrity of my finest hour
Of my one woman army
We learn America like a script
It's true, like a lot of things are true
It draws death dancing out of little countries with funny languages
It's the fear that lives in a forest of stone
And never get plowed
It's the failed America in me
You know the ones that always get dumped on
Where the sun rarely filters down
Eternally circling, signally
We bring ourselves to the role
The pulse that draws death dancing out of anonymous side streets
I look up, it looks like the buildings are burning
