Don't need no scapegoat

Don't want no enemies

I'm just looking for the antidote that can wean me off the remedy

Maybe I got issues with

Permission slips and politics

Passion plays and promises that are half empty

I am the lone gunman

I am the bombardier

I am the silent warning that all you fuck ups need to hear

Serving both sides

Like Saint Sebastian stuck on high

Abusing my body to free my mind till it's half empty

I raise this glass to all the empty souls at the filling stations

I'll take suggestions from the congregation

And I swear if one of you has something useful to say

I'll be the first to rock the vandals and drink the Kool-Aid

Don't need no sure shot

Don't want no guarantees

I don't know what I'd do without those sweet uncertainties

We could pull the ripcord and start from scratch

Run the numbers through hell and back

Drowning in red or drenched in black, the answer is half empty