With a sense of irony everyone you see
Is chasing their illusions.
Take a dive or sink or swim,
But in the end you're in the same pollution.
In your world escape is swift,
The nonsense list
Is all you need to know.
In the land of dreams,
You make the right connections,
Then you'll be the hero.
Ecstasy, the cult of me
Provides our institutions.
You can live forever with a grave that stands
Where people used to function.
You can join the saviours of our culture,
Vultures circling overhead my sky.
Like the sin of gluttony won't set you free,
But Betty Ford can help you try.
You can get all the things you never needed
You can sell people crap and make them eat it.
But where is our John Wayne
Where's our sacred cowboy now?
Where are the indians on the hill?
There's no indians left to kill.
People die with oxygen
And all their money can't afford a breath.
People starving everywhere
And staring in the face of death.
Prostitutes and politicians
Laying in their beds together.
You can be the saviour of the poor
Making up the policies
To open up the back door…
You can get all the things you never needed
You can sell people crap and make them eat it.
Where is our John Wayne
Where's our sacred cowboy now?
Where are the indians on the hill?
There's no indians left to kill.