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
