A cadillac drives down my street 
A bead of sweat pourin slow down a palm line. 
I see a bumper sticker 
it's a bearded man with a wanted sign. 
A myth we've made to scare out fears away 
A slogan that we slap on all our misdirected hate 
A muddy symbol meant to mitigate our pain 
But it's really just a desert corpse 
We've painted on the wall out in some cave. 
Anyway... 
I don't know where he's gonna park that thing. 
My neighborhood drunk's on-line at the deli 
with his shaky hands and his swollen face he waits for his coffee. 
He blacks out curbside every night 
and every day crawls back towards wall street. 
So I don't see it like it's us and them 
I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend 
Droning on and on and on and never doing what we wanted 
Heavy legs two steps behind some forever dangling carrot. 
and I'm tired of this 
So who's to say that we can't just fucking change it? 
and I know it seems dramatic 
but I treat it like a crisis 
The office to the coffin 
All our time and talent wasted 
and that weight against your throat 
is that a noose dressed like a necklace? 
From here I couldn't really tell the difference 
either way I say let's not take any chances 
cause I don't know where he's gonna park that thing 
Well I don't know where he's gonna park that thing 
No I don't know where he's gonna park that thing
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