The trouble with you and me my friend, is the trouble with this nation, too many blessings, too little Appreciation.
The land of opportunity spawned a whole new breed of men without souls.
There are no facts, there is no truth, just data to be manipulated.
The government bugged the men's room in the local disco lounge.
Insect politics, indifferent universe. Bang your head against the wall, but apathy is worse.
O' beautiful, for spacious skies But now those skies are threatening They're beating plowshares into swords For this tired old man that we elected king.
Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.
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