broken train

the snipers are passed out

in the bushes again

i'm glad i got my suit dry-cleaned

before the riots started

cuz there's only rehashed faces

on the bread line tonight

soon you'll be a figment

of some infamous life

billionaires smile like weapons

passing out platinum pensions

they're out of control

no one knows how low they'll go

take a ride on a broken train

those bra burning deportees

at the service station

they know that beige

is the color of resignation

we're out of control

no one knows how low we'll go

take a ride on a broken train

shining like crystal tiaras

ghettos and gray riviera

this is the real me ladies

you won't find no shelter here

tell me

what's your zip code baby

did you ever let a cowboy sit on your lap