Pavlov hits me with more bad news every time I answer the phone
  so I play and I sing and I just let it ring,
  all day when I'm at home
    a defacto choice of
  macro-microcosmic melancholy
  but baby any way you slice it,
  I'm thinkin I could just as soon use the time alone
    yeah the goons have gone global
  and the CEO's are shredding files
  and the democrans and the republicrats
  are flashing their toothy smiles
    and Uncle Tom is posing for a photo-op with the oval office klan
  and Uncle Sam is riggin' cockfights in the promised land
  and that knife you stuck in my back is still there
  it pinches a little when I sigh and moan
  and these days I'm thinkin I could just as soon use the time alone
    cause all the wrong people have the power of suggestion
  and the freedom of the press is meaningless if nobody asks the question
  I mean causation by definition is such a complex compilation of factors
  that to even try to say why is to oversimplify
  that's a far cry, isn't it dear, from acting like you're the only one there
  unrepentantly self-centered and unfair
    enter all suckers scrambling for the truth
  exit mr. eye-contact who took his flirt and flew the coup
  but whatever, no matter, no fishin trips, no fishin
  cause momma's officially out of commission
    and did I mention in there somewhere
  did I mention somewhere in there
  that I traded Babe Ruth,
  yes I traded the only player
  that was bigger than the game
  and I can't even tell you why,
  cause you'd think I'm insane.
  and that's the truth
    and the music industry mafia is pimping girl power
  sniping off sharp-shooter singles from their styrofoam towers,
  and hip-hop is tied up in the back room with a logo stuffed in its mouth
  cause the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house
    but then, I'm getting away from myself
  as I get closer and closer home
  and the difference between you and me baby
  is I get fucked up when I'm alone
    and I must admit today
  that my inner pessimist seems to have gotten the best of me
  we start out sugared up on kool aid and manifest destiny
  and then we memorize all the presidents names like little trained monkeys
  and we spit into the world so many spinny-eyed TV junkies
    incapable of unraveling the military-industrial mystery
  pre-emptively passified with history book history
  and I've been around the world now and I can see this about America
    the mind control is deep here, man
  the myopia is steep here, man
    and behold those who try to expose the reality
  really try to realize democracy
  are shot with rubber bullets and gassed off the streets
  while the global power brokers are kept clean and discreet
  behind a wall
  behind a moat
  and that is all
  that's all
  that's all she wrote
    and my heart beats an s-s-s o-o-o s-s-s
  cause folks just really couldn't care-care-care less-less-less
  as long as every day is superbowl sunday
  and larger than life women in lingerie are pouting at us from every bus stop
  she loves me, she loves me not
  she loves me, she loves me not
  she loves me, she loves me not
    and "big government should not stand between a man and his money"
  i mean, "what's good for business is good for the country"
  our children still take that lie like communion,
  the same old line the Confederacy used on the Union
    conjugate liberty into libertarian
  and medicated associated with deregulation privitization
  we won't even know we're slaves on a corporate plantation
    somebody say hallelujah,
  somebody say damnation,
  cause the profit system follows the path of least resistance
  and the path of least resistance is what makes the river crooked
  makes it serpentine
  capitalism is the devil's wet dream
    so just give me my Judy garland drugs and let me get back to work
  cause the empire state building is the tallest building in New York
  and I have always got the feeling
  you just like to hear it fall off your tongue
    but I remember my name in your mouth
  and I don't think I was done hearing it close to my ear
  on a whisper's way to a moan
    Pavlov hits me with more bad news every time I answer the phone
  so I play and I sing and just let it ring,
  all day when I'm at home
    a defacto choice of
  macro-microcosmic melancholy
  but baby any way you slice it,
  I'm thinkin I could just as soon use the time alone