The Cul-de-sac jungle is a cruel place
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It's a living rotting failure from a different age
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And if you're looking for the place that dreams go to die
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it's not in the city it's around the outside
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You can mortgage your future for subleached purity
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and accept the sterility in exchange for security
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but no matter how many times you run from your fears
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the same problems always re-appear
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Day after day it's all just decay
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and the promised land just gets further away
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On these dead lawns lie your father's dreams
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White flight. White blight. White screams
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On these dead lawns lie your mother's dreams
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Rum, Romanism And TammanyIdealism is fucking dead
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Laughed off the stage at countless conventions
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Laissez faire is en vogue again
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It's silver tongue has been heaven sent
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One man, one vote, throw it away
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One land, one hope, throw it away
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When every candidate looks the same, born of noble blood
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So don't fucking talk to me about our tradition of democracy
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Who the fuck am I supposed to believe in
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-----------------
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The Edge Of Town
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| The Suicide File |
