Welcome to century twenty one
Good handguns make good neighbors
The price of life is oil
And we slave to earn green paper
The pioneer is dead and gone
Love is a passing phase
So plant yourself firm in that chair
And count your final days
The messiahs are elected
The prophets are all shunned
The sacrificial altar runs
With the blood of fallen sons
The sport of those in power
Is the burden of the weak
And life is going great
So long as we're kept beneath their feet
Cynical doesn't cover my point of view
Truth is the only language I'll speak to you
Pry your fingers off your swollen calloused eyes
The revolution will be televised
They say the meek will inherit earth
But I'd like to see them try
They squabble over petty things
Beneath the broken sky
The beggars choose, the winners lose
Our heroes are put down
The country sleeps while their mothers weep
In all their tears we drown
Cynical doesn't cover my point of view
Truth is the only language I'll speak to you
Pry your fingers off your swollen calloused eyes
The revolution will be televised
Push your agenda as far as you want
You'll never break it, never make it, never take it from us
Freedom's a right, not a choice, for this truth I will die
We'll send a message back to you when we light up the skies
You think control is everything and you might be right
But we will throw the haymakers that will end this fight
Freedom's our right, not your choice, for this truth we will die
We'll send you all into the skies like the fourth of July
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