Pull it out of the case and drone on monotonously.
Push the trigger up and point the gun at my head:
End it for me before I get the chance to see,
Everything with white walls and lousy carpet.
All those lines you made before,
Lose their shape when the charcoal fades to grey.
Your politic are your personal life.
I'll say it or I'll scream it until,
I'm sitting in that final chair;
And you'll probably be the one,
To pull the switch so go ahead.
I want to hear the needle scratch across my arm,
So I can lodge the bullet in.
I thought we were headed to the same place again,
But ideology and action are the broken links.
If I shouted again as loud as I could,
Would it break your head or just rail you again?
I'll pull the trigger if you don't flip the switch.
What's the matter? You're winning.
So Laissez-Faire. This trophy's yours.