Meet me at the laundromat
The one between our houses
Meet me in the alley way
Just before the dumpsters
Where as children, we'd conspire
To overthrow the neighbors
To weed out all the cruel old men and save their lovely daughters

These are troubled days my friend
In a way we're all still children
This room's-a-spinning with the untapped rage
Of our hundred hearts-a-beating
Maybe with some kind of sympathy
Or maybe just true horror
Lately, there's a lot of talk gon' 'round bout time
Reaching a zenith of despair

I watch myself sit idly by like some distant cold third person
And stare so blankly at the news fed by my telescreen
cnnbcmsdotdubelyoodubelyoodownasdakianbackwash

While a dozen nations argue the significance of a piece of land, unholy you & me my friend, formed some kind of police dog state (wuf)
In attempt to regulate such bloodshed

Asprin might stop the itch
Who will stop the burning