There is no anger, just growing exhaustion and disgust
No longer a difference between
A cynicism has been writing itself into my skin
And I am sick to death of it
So let it burn in the front yard, along with everything I own
Piled up and sprayed down with gasoline, soak the embers in the broken heads of my guitars
As we dance around in circles, torch ourselves in effigy
Everybody jump up, live, love longer
So are you really listening?
I don't want any part of it
I was worried and upset about what I'm gonna do without your genre acceptance
Then it came to me, you gotta turn your back and abandon it
I'm taking aim at you
As a focus and recipient of judgment
Your politics are easy to remember
Especially when sung along to beats like this
So, it's a dirty little secret about money
It's a dirty little secret about poverty
It's a dirty little secret about hunger
Another little secret about war and brutality
There is no romance
No glamor in reality
There is no romance
No glamor in reality

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