Well, I was talking to a girl who didn’t love the war,
thought the justice in it might have just drifted ashore.
And a score to settle with anybody who kind of looks and sounds like
who we’re mad at?
That’s old hat.
I said, lady what you do when the Powers That Be
disagree with you? Eye-to-eye don’t see with you?
If co-conspirators abound, they believe with you
that the amazing automatic Shrub machine is the
thing to bring the world to the brink,
wreck it in like two blinks, then go extinct.
Do you move to New Zealand, Canada, France?
Leave behind your rent unpaid and your ideals unadvanced?
She said, no, I stick around,
act subversive, put my other ear to the ground,
throw cream pies at every mayor I run into.
And I’ve been thinking real hard: is it a sin to
kill a man who’s murdered so many already?
I said, whoah, now, steady (steady steady),
you ain’t talking treason, is you?
These days with the shit, don’t hit a miscue.
Bust a loose lip, get you shipped to Camp X.
The PTB could write you off like some bad checks,
never think about you again.
She said, the one who got to find me first is them,
and meanwhile we got an action planned
at the Corporate Pigs of America meeting, we’re gonna brand
each pig’s left butt cheek with a dollar sign
to indicate what owns them and controls their minds.
Then it’s off to Amsterdam where the next plan’s
gonna come together and get prepared.
I said, power on my sister, I’m about to meet you there.