The solace exploded with pure perverse incentive
In backyards facades cemented by delusions you host
No friends so befriend the mountains and go mount an affront
To those revolts by dolts elected from coast to coast.

Signs of a pulse occupy us, delivering guerilla dust
When on a rampage we need places to go (x2)

The closing speech of the day, for the hearing impaired
Straying from radio range and shedding tufts of hair
The closing speech of the day, for anyone who cares
The ground that you are marching on seems to have disappeared

The voice of malice, a smart aleck hoisting chalices so phallic
Doctrines penned then bent by fog merchants
Surrounded by marauders selling myths and playing martyrs
Oh how the mouth waters as you pull of a hoax