This scene's grown cold and calcified
All I see are disaffected eyes
Never changing their position
Different night, same pill I'm takin
Show me there's something still worth shakin
It's a sterile bin that they put you in
'Til you're the product that they're peddlin
Turn the light on read the news
You got ketchup on your sweatshirt, blood on your shoes
Combing all the mausolea for a prosopopoeia
And we wave our pinky fingers in the air
Even if it makes you nervous come and join the insurgence
It's a Triple SSS-alistical affair
Tough breaks babe this ain't no welfare state
This DJ steals from the collection plate
Crowd applauds your vanilla twitchin
Different pose, same smile you're fakin
Could it there's nothing left worth shakin
LA tans covers Mid-West flesh
Next to naked but still over-dressed
Casualties from casual Friday
Seduced by the sex appeal of the inorganic
Once we blew the lid off of a sleepy exurb in Upstate New York
The vibe was so much lighter, it was New Year's Eye of 2005
And we began with a invocation and proceeded imbibing with deep dedication
A new gilded age we christened but we tore out the page on the third revision