You can lead the punks to reason   but you can't make them think   and lifelong trouble with the burning fists   and angry hearts of america's young is a fear of the new   and the narrow outdated tunnels they see the world through   And where to turn but up ones own ass   where the answers are free but shit nonetheless   We're used to the smell and content with the mess   because a slogan's much easier than a second guess   And still we water paper flowers   thinking we've found the way for tomorrow   lest we forget   the empty heads will always be the first   to try and kill what's already dead