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Album: The Gun Show
Hands where my eyes can see them
Sorta like it's Woodstock circa 1979, my people
The vibe is peaceful
I kinda see a yellow submarine color scheme, nevermind the reason
Lucy's in the sky with her dilated eyes
While the rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies
Not telling lies
Neither the revolution nor impending apocalypse gets televised
And I'll be sitting in the press box Twittering
Status updates, current moods illegitimate
I came to soften the hearts of the hardest hit
Anarchists and arsonists barking at the parsonage
Kill with kindness, let 'em align us
Meek learn, cheek turn, opposite of spinless
But if I turn and you strike again
Then me and you are stepping out my friend
A true tale, the cool heads prevail
But don't think I don't speak alpha male
I got a cure for the common cold
It's a heart of gold
Don't stop where the bombs are sold
A cure for the cancer
The gold standard
Ammo is not the answer
I want less, less practical
Less best friends buried at Arlington National
Less, less dystopia
Less bumper sticker religion and less mass opiates
Less post Alexander drips
Vain attempts to treat this like a game of Risk
Less dictators, less invaders
Less sensational haters and post eugenical racists
Less of my own opinions
Less of my ego and cold intentions
Less of my me first, less of my knee jerk
Reticent veteran, the pessimism needs work
And I'm never gonna settle for less
Than the breah of Jacob's God in my chest
No, I'm never gonna settle for less
Than Lucy in the sky with her fancy dress
Bridge:
You want an answer, how 'bout a panzer?
You want action?
Cue par cans and the camera
Everybody smile for the camera
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