[Lyric] Beats Per Minute (Swivel Stick)

I'm getting sick and tired of waking up to find myself in some new mess. Pessimistic tendencies have pretty much become my way of thinking. I look forward to the nights: what capsule or white pill does the night hold for me? Drown away. Not exactly the best way to dissolve from the screaming headache the day holds- city signs, stop signs, the dry jazz sounds of trucks, busses, and car engines. The other people's inability to cope with such a stressful community. Smoke, holes in the ground, cop cars, long lines, accident with three family members dead; but the only important part of this important news segment is the traffic back up on the expressway. It's almost sad. Feed me new commercial segments on how this drug is better than that one. Or that two out of three Americans prefer the taste of Budweiser beer. How about those breasts that do all the advertisement? Trapped. My skin has plenty of scars and scrapes from the endless construction that rules from one part of the kingdom to the other. Everyone, just go out and place your lucky premonitions on six numbers that will end all your financial problems. God knows our 8 to 5 job can't do all of it. Money. We can come home to our desired couch and open that bud-king of beers- and let the news at six o'clock entertain all our viewing pleasures. It's alright, it's o.k. Bodies with lives shot out of them, laying sexually dead across the Rodrigues' family sidewalk. Center over to the richest black man for fisher price murder. All along America is blinded to our real politics. Take me out- McDonalds. Burger King. Fast food fuck hell. Take me to the hospital. I love you my orange questionable prescription pill. It's a good thing that grandfather and grandmother smith are telling me about some new scheme that human health care plan will take care of me when I'm old and retarded. I'm sorry I mean retired... Tell me this, what's a campaign when the campaign is blind to it's own objective reason for operating. JUST SAY NICKEL BAG. Hey man, the generation beneath me- you know them- generation fuck you, they're always on geraldo being stepped on or made fun of... but what you don't know is that they're right there- talking about your expensive BMW. Talking about a joyride. Talking about whippids. Talking about tripping. Talking about sex. Talking about hating you. Excuse me, talking about almost beating the shit out of you. Are you scared? We're loud we're noticeable, we're right along side of you. Keep giving us, feeding us all your shit and pretty soon we're all gonna find ourselves in the same goddamn hole!

Generation tune in and smoke out: you know what's up!