We're Playing Six Rounds of Russian Roullette With Ourselves

With their heads on the picket-sign fence
Their arms hang like chalk-outlined ornaments
As we seek and destroy ourselves
We breathe in the pollution you’ve promised us

And you’ll reload the gun for another compliment!

And all of the machines
Are burning with the factory
Our beds are getting restless
In the absence of all of our dreams
But they’re all up in smoke
Severed by the jet lines
Cracked like your smile

The man at the wheel
Has us turning like gears
And running for our lives like an assembly line

Still you grab the trigger for a little reassurance!?

Smog overcasts yesterday’s heroes
That we built up to burn down
The ambulance becomes the faintest light in this town

And the fallout!?
Our gift to you, son
Just don’t take it into your lungs

We're playing six rounds of russian roullette with ourselves

You’ll empty the clip for an easy way out!