lyrics
We're not revolutionaries, we're the fucking band
We sing our songs. just for you, just consume’em man
And pay us with your love-and-sweat, and oh, money too
Don't elevate, to your saviors, stand oh no
Here 3 days next week, prepaid not checks, no not from you
It's hysterical the hysteria, and oh, the megalomania
And you all used to look quite like Transylvania
Now look like Fred Rogers sweet little neighbors too
Who've filled their diapers with crap from screaming hernias
We don't want a revolution, no not now
And didn't know how, to do one, no not then
We do want, our piece of percentage, my good friend
You can even come on stage, and raise your hand
As of, July 8th this year we got seven-hundred-sixty-six, candy dates, grim
But the Highlander rule says, there can be only one
Was there enough to choose from, I only hear from some
They speak of influence, but only, hear ball busting clues
With idiotic, calls from, the small minded clones
Who stomp their feet, and try to cheat, instead of just being won
One America, …
Won… won… won
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