Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Good mornin america

How are ya?
Don'tcha know me?
I'm your wayward son
I've come to bring you truck axles
For your war machines
In afghanistan

The girl with the clipboard knows
Or does she?
Little matter

All i hear in the new dawn
Is a train whistle
And cars humming a distant freeway

Radio stations
Playing the same silly shit
To people sipping coffee and eating mcmuffins as they do their part
To ensure society prospers

Banks and malls
Are turning on and tuning in
And i fight the taliban
With my truck axles on only
Three hours sleep and
No bronze star

Little matter to me
And the loons
On a still northern lake

We just hear the train whistle
That will never find afghanistan
And sing along in our own
Wayward way

Good mornin america
How are ya?