Burning City Smoking

Forty million refugees with no place on this earth to call their home

One for every aimless graduate with nothing else to show for it but loans

And those of us who make a mark use some Iraqi's blood

Our Western stain won't wash away, it won't vanish in the flood

It sets deeper with each hurricane and tidal wave and war

We want everything we see, and once it's gone we just want more

Atlas had those shoulders

We've got Ambien, we've got Jameson's, we sniff coke to bind us in a bubble, keep the newsprint nightmare distant and remote

But when we wake in guillotines and pitch out screaming fits

When the governer strikes up the band and gags our parted lips

When the worst case shows up dressed and dazzling, ready for the ball

Boy that bubble's bound to burst and what a tragic way to fall

The tabloids tell us hate the rat who strikes those subways closed and puts you out

Forget those fifty hour tunnel weeks

Inhaling steel dust poison through his mouth

Well if he don't deserve a pension that makes his family feel secure

If we're now so disconnected, it's our reflections we ignore

And if our constant choice is skimming past the writing on the wall

Then I'm sad to say we're lost and I'm embarrassed for us all

So most days I can't put to rest the burning city smoking in my mind

And I play pretend the principles are nothing more than actors running lines

And I stumble through a movie set where torture victims laugh

And embedded journalists who juggle knives and daggered glass while they entertain a mob of heads, the state and CEOs

I stagger past anarchist extras through saloon doors painted gold

So I turn and I see Uncle Sam inside a wardrobe ready for the shoot

So I walk right up and talk to him, I tell him that I'm scared and I'm confused

While they test those cameras out and get the lighting right, catering fills coffee cups and carves up apple pie

And while the stylists trim his beard and straighten those lapels

I ask his empire eyes what made him drive us straight to hell

And as my daydream ends he stands ashamed, a shocked and shattered shell

But there's never any answers for my starving tongue to tell

'Cause the director's shouting action, I'm thrown off set, it's just

as well