“Stop asking musicians what they think,”
He slurred softly as he poured himself a second drink,
And outside, the world slipped over the brink.
“We all thought we had nothing to lose,
That we could trust in crossed fingers and horseshoes,
That everything would work out, no matter what we choose.”
The first time it was a tragedy, the second time it's a farce.
Outside it's 1933, so I'm hitting the bar.
And I don't know what's going on anymore.
The world outside is burning with a brand new light,
But it isn't one that makes me feel warm.
Don't go mistaking your house burning down for the dawn.
If I was of the greatest generation, I'd be pissed,
Surveying the world that I built slipping back into this.
I'd be screaming at my grandkids, “We already did this!”
Be suspicious of simple answers -
That shit's for fascists (and maybe teenagers).
You can't fix the world if all you have is a hammer.
Aren't you ashamed of this? I surely hope that you are;
Living in a society that's maybe heading for Mars,
While down here we still have a shower of bastards
Leading the charge.
Outside it's 1933 so I'm hitting the bar.