Dead presidents. Bleeding America blue.
Side by side. One by one.
Your right hand man is sharpening his knives.
Dead presidents. Shocking you with stun guns on the seven o' clock news
So just do whatever it takes to sedate yourself between commercial breaks.
Is he living next door? Or is he near?
Standing in line to die. It's the pixilated face of your fear.
Because the psychotic hype has arrived. No one's getting out alive.
