words leave me dry,
like swords leave me dying
i thought i knew you

so the sewer & the sky make the same sound
so i wonder where the wind comes from & what it whips around

i;ve got to shatter these inadequacies
i;m down so low the devil;s on the level with me
& bearing arms to a chorus of car alarms
he;s making good with a nation of hoodies & hoods

who broke the ranks, who pushed past & made it through?
& your convictions have all been abandoned
we;re tv tired & we know you had a hand in it
& it;s a post-traumatic world on the consciousness lip
i;m sick of this shit; i;m waking from a sleep

you cannot save alternative radio
you cannot save prime time tv

but now being hateful is so fucking fashionable
keep pointing fingers at anyone imaginable
keep eating caviar off vanity plates
& say what you wanto to say
keep bringing yesterday;s future today.

music: the distillers; gypsy rose lee
mood: not too fucking good