Texty:
Majestic Twelve The Schizophrenology

Let's say theoretically that you're a patriot who wakes up one morning and realizes his government has been overtaken by liars, incompetents and thieves

for Coley Bernard Sullivan Sweet baby Jesus, come talk to me I need to see you smile The cows in the meadow refuse to come home My children all grown

Your fingertips are shaking There's rhythm in your hips Your fears are overtaking Your perfect painted lips I could be there, I could be real Understand

Sometimes you can hear it like a rhythm through the crickets And the hum of the cars as they motor towards the beach Hovering on the water like a ripple

I've listened to all of your nonsense I've tried to make sense of it It's left me broke and bleeding Slow burn, American Rage I take the hours they give