I’ve lately been thinking of an old friend,

Who I haven’t seen in a while

Last night I dreamed that the same friend, passed without saying goodbye

Oh, to be wild like the roses

Oh, to be red with delight

My blood is red out of fury

The wind doesn’t blow this far right

Some terrors are born out of nature

Some terrors are born overnight

Some terrors are born out of leaders

With their eye on a different prize

The thing is, some leaders are players

And players sometimes can be clowns

And clowns then sometimes can be dangerous

When they’re there and yet they can’t be found

The Big Mac,

The big man,

The big bomb

The power of money and lies

The power of fear in the people

The wind doesn’t blow this far right

Drill baby drill

Don’t baby don’t

Don’t you hear the winds

Feel the fires as they burn

Beautiful planet

Beautiful home

Drill baby drill

Don’t baby don’t

Kill baby kill

Don’t baby don’t

Don’t you hear the kids as you blindly bulldoze on

Beautiful children starved to the bone

Kill baby kill

Don’t baby don’t