Lady Cops Stuff Their Crotches

[egoomega]

Those Sunday morning side trips.
Out in the country, where you can still
Hear the whistle. The birds.
Smell the trees. The leaves.
There's fresh air there, and corn.
Lots of corn.

Scrapbook your memories in two.
Into a box or two.
Molded to live your life
For your past. For some
Silly medal or some
Fucking pointless award.

Watch us, you anal probing
Shit faced drunk alien overlords.
Wach us fail as
Our leaders keep on fallin'.
Keep your distance and watch us
From afar as we fail to evolve
Beyond Stalin.
We'll raffle off our used tanks
As door prizes,
At fairs,
Held in parks,
Named after dead war heroes.

If we got it perfect here.
Everything here.
Why then does it feel, we,
have nothing to lose?
Everything there is,
That we have made,
Has made mixed up people.
Our creations control us and
Start to create us and
Create mixed up people.
Who don't live and love
Because they are so confused.
Anymore it's only win or lose,
While they tell you you can only lose.

Preemptive Mea Culpa,
America is waiting,
And I just gotta oblige
And gotta set the place on fire.