Culling

Bearing westward, hell-bound on Old 66
I'm out for answers, wind up with just bloody kicks
A pocket Jesus to light your path
A techno-messiah, enraptured crash.

I couldn't make this shit up
The truth is bad enough
Out in the heartlands a smoking wreck
Of ill-raised children and lost respect.

Let me sell you illusions of concern
An endless loop of drown and burn
Worship while we tell you lies to your face
The bottom line a cheap disgrace.

Electro-lemmings line up to storm the cliff
The paying victims create a rapid shift
To empty commerce and wasted words
A celebration of the thinning herd.

I couldn't make this shit up
The truth is bad enough
Out in the heartlands a smoking wreck
Of ill-raised children and lost respect.

Let me sell you illusions of concern
An endless loop of drown and burn
Worship while we tell you lies to your face
The bottom line a cheap disgrace.

It's a fucking disgrace.