D                                A
Let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast,
        C                                 G
We have seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea,
   D                         A
Syntactic is our elegance, incisive our disease,
    C                                  G                D
The swath endogenous of ourselves will be our quandary,

      D                               A
We've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its breast,
    C                         G
Grandiloquent our attitude, impassioned yet inept,
D                           A
Frivolous gavel our design, ludicrous our threat,
  C                            G                      D
Excursive expeditions leave us holding less and less,

                A
So what does it mean?
        F                              C
When we tell ourselves it's only for a while we have been deceived 
         A#                         F
And it's only for a moment that the treasures of our day make 
     C                         A#
Life easier to complicate, the treasure thrown away,

G   G# F                G      G# F
I'm so tired of all the fucked up minds 
           G    G#     F                 G   G#   F
Of all the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines,
           G    G# F                G   G#   F
Of all the hand-me-downs from all industrial crimes 
        G  G#   F                         G   G# F
And the weeping mothers and those who are led so blind,
         G   G#  F                G     G# F 
From the plastic protests and the hands of time
        G  G#   F                G G#   F
And the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind