Lyrics

pamela paints a protest sign
it's a statement of faith in thin black lines
she isn't sure she's right
but she's glad she's not the only one

the president stands with his eyes closed
the shit hit the fan and he knows
his wife says honey that's just how it goes
but i'm betting he's a lonely one

sometimes there's never a song to sing
never a place to sit
never a bell to ring
never a face that fits
oh sometimes it's the pits
but there's a cherry-flavored moon that's out tonight
so i guess we're alright

this machine doesn't mind your rage
you know you're just a snake in a cage
and you're starting to look your age
don't make this another random run

take on the trends with a new tatoo
get something sacred in hebrew
whatever it's saying, i hope it's saying it to you
the radio plays 'blister in the sun'

chorus

but can you sense the sarcasm now, baby
it's creeping up the floor
so quick to kiss up, raise your fist up now baby
like you don't know what it's for
cause you don't know what it's for

so beat your drums till your fingers hurt
we'll put Che's face on a new t-shirt
we'll all hold hands and pretend that socialism works
and pray that a change gonna come

but if history has taught us anything
pamela's fingers fit into diamond rings
and the anarchists always become the kings
the revolution has begun

chorus