The fascists and their many guises  Anarchists and their fantasizing  It seems sometimes they're sailing the same boat  Politicians mesmerizing throngs of automated souls  As some similar psycho's screwing on the scope    I'm leaving town  To join sophisticates in my head  We'll have our fun playing the hypocrite critic  And when all the creatures in their palaces are crushed  I can safely say "I'm coming home"    Fairy tales and fruitless fortunes  Acquired from some sad story teller  Can sometimes be enough to keep me mum in my keep  Organ grinders orating overtures of madness  As the heinous hipster's spending his unearned currency    There may be many ways of reaching the same plateau  I'll take the road less traveled  If it looks like it ain't been sold  The chains around my neck won't break  But at least they're made of solid