there's a cold liar under these soles there's a place
i can hide where no one ever goes cut to these feelings
straight through the ceiling tonight an electrical
king with a crown of live thorns says we all want it
black and white like our lives time will erase him
his hopes his dreams our fears but bloody hands remain
the country so unclear and all that we've done is just
bury the gun if we don't see this now then we never
will push in the potion you've quelled the commotion
i'll say an oswaldian theory he's the one don't get
near me we all want it anyway...