You are a number, a statistic, a footnote
Forgettable and mute in the middle class
They've got you blind and oblivious to the facts
They don't care what's best for you
They want what's best for them
They call it democracy, but we don't have a say or choice
Just faceless servants entertaining the rich
The Land of Opportunity?
This is the land where dreams go to die
It's the home of the controlled
And the land of the gutless
When war companies are running dry
They'll send you overseas to die
Burn the fucking flag, it don't mean shit
Just colored fabric on a pole
We're content with too little so that's what they give us
We're only as free as a dog inside an electric fence
We can see it all, but we can have none.
Controlled freedom isn't freedom.
One day, we'll bite the hand that pretends to feed us.