That Gun Won't Work the Way You Think It Will, Son (Redux)

For god and country we hang ourselves from our ceiling fans

To promote our newest nationalist desire

And show the world that we expire

Just as naturally as the alphabet ending with x y z

‪Inside a faulty state overrun with confident beasts‬

‪Strong-arming their way through the land dubbed as police‬

‪Jungle rules in a humane society‬

‪Boxed in and broken until‬

‪Your life is stolen‬

‪Forward again, forward again, forward again‬

‪(That gun)‬

‪Face in a pan, seed in a plan, and call you a friend‬

‪(Won't work)‬

‪(See them standing all above, they loom over the question fate)‬

‪(The way)‬

‪(It's love that draws them on, hook their lip, and tear their jaw from the-)‬

‪(You want it to)‬

‪Skull‬

‪How many dreams fall out of the roof of the metropolis?‬

‪So much negative space for any type of possibility

‪This is what's best for us all

‪The apocalypse will be televised and said to be for the good of our great nation

‪Riots are the start and end of the day

‪The safe space is the closest to the explosion

‪Power lines will save us as long as we charge our phones

‪Police will shoot us while breaking into our homes

‪This is a not so distant future

‪This is actually right now

‪Who will pull the trigger first?‬

‪Who will pull the trigger on the innocent first?‬

‪There's a cult of personality nailed to this cross