It's a Bush World. We just live in it...
Anger at ignorance motivated this song.
Michael Moores' F.911 crystalized my disgust.
Broken Machine –
God knows what you do.
And I know. But do they?
When they’re seeing it too, they’ll say.
All of the lies that were told didn’t go waste. So many left in the cold
for you to buy your place.
We can trust you to regulate the poll.
You can muster no inaugural stroll.
Roll the dole kids down a spider hole.
To tap the soil and turn your black heart gold. Fix a broken machine.
I know that’s too impossible for you.
If you got all the green
then you know that it’s true.
In the classroom you saw your lucky break. Without being stopped by the law
the plan was yours to take.
Lives like paper getting blown around.
You remember at that rustling sound.
By the campfire
you heard your Daddy say,
“There’s so much more Son, if only for a way.”