You can lead the punks to reason

but you can't make them think

and lifelong trouble with the burning fists

and angry hearts of america's young is a fear of the new

and the narrow outdated tunnels they see the world through

And where to turn but up ones own ass

where the answers are free but shit nonetheless

We're used to the smell and content with the mess

because a slogan's much easier than a second guess

And still we water paper flowers

thinking we've found the way for tomorrow

lest we forget

the empty heads will always be the first

to try and kill what's already dead