Mall of America

They say it's murder on your folk career

To make a rock record with the Disappeared

We'll let the police helicopters

Pull stereos out of the lake

There's not an image that I must defend

There are no art forms now, just capitalism

So send the National Guard

To the Mall of America

And they can dress dead bodies up

In tight designer jeans

Diesel! Prada!!!

It looks good, it looks good

It looks good, it looks good

Oh, it does

I'm gonna lie down with the common sound

I'm gonna bury my blues so it's never found

I'm gonna learn to pay attention

To the television sets

And if my sadness needs a catalyst

I'll just uncover my eyes, so much stimulus

And at the shopping epicenter

I have an agoraphobic fit

So buy a fountain soda

Put some sugar on my tongue

I'll wake and write some songs with no soul

With no soul

With no soul