The Cul-de-sac jungle is a cruel place

It's a living rotting failure from a different age

And if you're looking for the place that dreams go to die

it's not in the city it's around the outside

You can mortgage your future for subleached purity

and accept the sterility in exchange for security

but no matter how many times you run from your fears

the same problems always re-appear

Day after day it's all just decay

and the promised land just gets further away

On these dead lawns lie your father's dreams

White flight. White blight. White screams

On these dead lawns lie your mother's dreams

Rum, Romanism And TammanyIdealism is fucking dead

Laughed off the stage at countless conventions

Laissez faire is en vogue again

It's silver tongue has been heaven sent

One man, one vote, throw it away

One land, one hope, throw it away

When every candidate looks the same, born of noble blood

So don't fucking talk to me about our tradition of democracy

Who the fuck am I supposed to believe in