Here's a little story
I've working on for years
It's full of fears
Of where we're taking this
(are you still there?)
All my life I've been mistaken
Of a population tearing up
My geriatric bliss
And I don't mean to interrupt you
But you're stepping on my shoes
And it's not you, it's everybody else
Don't you see on every corner
Crackheads selling crack here, daughter
Children killing children after school
And there are rows of golden gilded chairs
And plastic fun for millionaires
And little precious pills to get me through
And I don't mean to disappoint you
But you're running out of air
And you don't care like everybody else
I don't mean to say this only for myself
I'm speaking for everyone else
'Cause I'm frightened
Holes in all your winning stories
Mislaid those forgotten warnings
Television burying the truth
We don't need to understand
Your ruthless words or ruthless hands
Whatever Debbie Long demands of you
And I mean to contradict you
But I don't know where you're coming from
You're preaching peace and waiting have begun
(For help press zero)