(A punk song I wrote about um, how much the government sucks, and like, how I write stuff.)

We writers in our garrison
Telling jokes heard by no-one
Laying out on the pavement
Gravity pulls like a magnet
The world's a feverish rush,
A crushing pain
I'm getting all soaked by the rain
We explore all realms of poverty
Let us preach to you our misery
And have a toast of laudanum

Shelley, Tolstoy and Byron
Never had it quite this bad
I wonder if George Orwell ever saw
That his future would come true
Their lines all painted red white and blue

Doublespeak, the Patriot Act
Lunesta might give you a heart-attack
But when you sleep your mind is void
Of all those dreams you had employed
To keep you from
Going insane

Shelley, Tolstoy and Byron
Never had it quite this bad
And now the future has come true
Everything's red white and blue.