Biting my nails
And watching the news
Oh boy
Anticipating a terrorist
At my front door
In this media paranoia
I've been influenced enough
To bar the windows
And install a burglar alarm
I've got
Plastic sheets
And a gas mask
And you call this
Nostalgia for bomb shelters
I was reading about the
Lockeed businessman who was killed
And then it hit me
Just like the Arabs are going to take over
The World
The Smerfs were commies
Looking through my fingers
Crouched in fear
I saw Uncle Sam
He said, "Son, you have to hate the opponent
And cooperate in liberating him!"
I've got a cross on my wall
I have a flag outside
I've got a gun under my pillow
My smile may deceive you
I perceive the suspicious
With the weariest of eyes
If this fear wasn't unprecedented
I wouldn't need to wear my disguise
Pulling my hair
And indulging the broadcasted terror
I was rendered dependent
In the cesspool of fear
That comprises me
I thought
This is my American life.