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Connect the Dots
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A Scar is Born It's ten o'clock at night...do you know where your nation's president is?
If I had to take an educated guess, I'd imagine that he's off corrupting our capitol and brainwashing its citizens into thinking that the only opinion that matters is his.
We see the mannequins' faces on the television screen twenty-four hours a day, but do we know who they really are?
If we were to examine the daily secret lives of these loquacious liars, in our minds it would leave an everlasting scar.
Who ever gave America the shimmering silver badge and senselessly crowned us the world police?
When will this planet realize that fighting for freedom makes no sense; why are we going to war in an abject attempt to ultimately reach peace?
We carry the wounded soldiers to safety as if we were playing a grotesque and contorted game of pick up sticks,
Connect the diabolical dots and wretchedly witness the spiteful scene that this polluted planet depicts.
...Annihilative bombs fall from the hawk infested sky without any thought to where they might possibly land,
Let us all come together with our prodigious picket signs and omnipotent protest lines and march to the wicked White House hand-in-hand.
A scar has been born, but it's not too late to destroy the satanic seed,
The soldiers and security guards wearing their disgraceful uniforms look so feeble carrying their plaything guns, for mouths are the only true weapons that the doves need...
And when the mistakes of America begin to take their catastrophic toll,
Grab the tainted knife and connect the dots to my shattered soul.
It’s tragedy time...do you know where Mr. U.S.A. might happen to be?
It’s such a shame that the leader of our country quickly points the finger at his scapegoats in the Middle East and then decides to suddenly flee.
All the innocent ask for is the candid truth, but we're always left alone and lost in a confusing cloud of gray,
The accurate answers are arduous and difficult to discover when our administration is on a three hundred and sixty-five daylong holiday.
The vice president's desire to exterminate is so enormous that he doesn't even seem to notice any difference between hunting for harmless humans or an unarmed quail,
In these eight long and unsuccessful years in office, all that our elected officials have managed to do is dig themselves an early grave and rapidly fail.
Its weight may be considerably lighter, but the wings of a dove are more substantial than a ton of unbreakable bricks,
Connect the devastating dots and violently visualize the magicians in Washington D.C. perform their vanishing magic tricks.
...Baneful bullets fly through the cyanide saturated sky without any care to what they might potentially strike,
If this is a ravenous war for supremacy and oil, then in a heartbeat I'll sell my automobile and buy myself a sturdy skateboard or a bike.
A scar has been born, but if we pick at the sensitive scab it will never heal,
Satan can take our freedom away, but our souls he can never steal...
And when the attacks on American soil once again begin to sadomasochisticly start,
Give the gun to God and after he pulls the trigger, connect the bullet holes to the quickest path to my hollow heart.
...An artificial army of anonymous androids listens to the orders of a government full of rapacious robots,
We paint the deplorable picture of the Devil in a suit and tie setting the world ablaze as we connect the corrupted dots...
