Which turned out to be the closest thing
Daughters, daughters, daughters
Which turned out to be the closest thing
To a fashion trend that's ever been put on trial
Us whose youthful life was hostage to what harm did
Us who dropped the bombs on goodness when we saw it wasn't flawless
What will happen to our children when the least of us pass on?
And I'm still a cigarette, softly smoking on the edge of a metal ashtray
Fore-fathers who keep this fire burning
Us who fought the monsters of our country's crowded closet
The rest was cast off as denial of statehood and mastery
The treacherous use
To a fashion trend that's ever been put on trial
With the flesh of their would-be American daughters
Drowned the ancient east in western custom progress
The ultimate form of treason is the treacherous use of reason
Employed by the bastard sons of American
And the least of all our pride and sentiments
Who fought the hardest to be swept under the carpet
