i don't have to tell you things are bad.
everybody knows things are bad.
the dollar buys a nickel's work, banks are going bust, shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter.

punks [bad word] wild in the street and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it.

we know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat, and we sit watching our tV's while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be.

we know things are bad - worse than bad. they're crazy.

it's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out anymore. we sit in the house, and slowly the world we are living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, 'please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. let me have my toaster and my tv and my steel-belted radials and i won't say anything.
just leave us alone.'

well, i'm not gonna leave you alone. i want you to get mad!

we all lie
to ourselves
it never changes
a things

red wine and worry
the demons are watching us, washing lips
i feel sober? [bad word] me and everything
the trials of hate and heartache
are the martyr of my best days

i will destroy it all