With sense of irony - everyone

You see is chasing their illusion

Take a dive or sink or swim

But in the end

You're in the same pollution

In your world escape is swift

The nonsense list

Is all you need to know

In the land of dreams

You make the right connections

Then you'll be the hero...

Ecstasy...

The cult of me provides

Our institutions

You can live forever

Besides a grave that stands

Where people used to function

You can join

The saviours of our culture

Vultures circling

Overhead my sky

Like the sin of gluttony

Won't set you free

(But betty ford can help you try)



You can get all the things

You never needed

You can sell people crap

And make them eat it



Where is our John Wayne

Where is our sacred cowboys now?

Where are the indians on the hill

There's no indians left to kill



People die with oxycen

Andall their money

Can afford a breath

People starving everywhere

And staring in the face of death

Prostituties and politicans

Laying in their beds together

You can be the saviour

Of the poor

Making up the policies

To open the back door