They found the runaway
With a dirty blade of grass to his name
No class of family could afford
That kind of guilt, grief or shame
It's hard to say what sick
Ridiculous wickedness to blame
But who's to blame anyway?
It's hard to say the history
Or the mystery of deceit
Inventing hellish elephant skeletons
In a dream
Rampaging naked through the streets
Screaming: What does it all mean?
They hide inside the mountain
Dive into the dust
Ride the weary rusted
We say: time is come to bleed the drums dry
A chemical reaction happened In the absence of a brain
The toxic goblins monger fear from a plastic picture frame
The television culture revolution is bullshit
A mechanical priest preaches from the pulpit
The puppets pathetically start pulling their own strings
they can hardly be classified as human beings
There's always money in the mania we believe
We want the truth in a ruthless trash bag
But what does it all mean?
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