[Lyric] These Boots Were Made For Christopher Walken (Blame It On Whitman)

I fucking hate politics
Drown Congress in the water
All lives are mixed with heretics
They'll come for all your daughters
It's safe to say it sucks
But I'll try and cover up
The fact that I care with booze

I don't even know
Tie me down with rope

Drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink
Because that is how we cope
With the fact that three friends died this year
From overdose on dope
And these are just the facts
Irrelevant to the fat suits who don't even fucking care

And the sheep say "baa"
And the suits say "baa"
And the sheep say