These folks, they've all lost their minds They sleep in the walls here They peddle their dreams And package hope in a can And if my arm is broke Then please shake my good hand I've got it in reserve It's like another way to lie The needle from the record player scratching at the splinter in my brain Ooh-ooh-ooh That's why I never have to turn the pages, story always stays the same Ooh-ooh-ooh That's never gonna change Ooh-ooh-ooh And now the sign of the times Is gaudy and neon A flickering ad for feeling numb when you can And the winner dot coms Will make us a home and We'll sleep by the phone And then we'll always wonder why This city bored with country dreams is laughing all the way to the grave Ooh-ooh-ooh We try To pigeonhole the massacres so no one could remember our names Ooh-ooh-ooh Now we're shifting the blame Ooh-ooh-ooh