A cadillac drives down my street    A bead of sweat pourin slow down a palm line.    I see a bumper sticker    it's a bearded man with a wanted sign.    A myth we've made to scare out fears away    A slogan that we slap on all our misdirected hate    A muddy symbol meant to mitigate our pain    But it's really just a desert corpse    We've painted on the wall out in some cave.       Anyway...    I don't know where he's gonna park that thing.       My neighborhood drunk's on-line at the deli    with his shaky hands and his swollen face he waits for his coffee.    He blacks out curbside every night    and every day crawls back towards wall street.    So I don't see it like it's us and them    I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend    Droning on and on and on and never doing what we wanted    Heavy legs two steps behind some forever dangling carrot.       and I'm tired of this    So who's to say that we can't just fucking change it?       and I know it seems dramatic    but I treat it like a crisis    The office to the coffin    All our time and talent wasted    and that weight against your throat    is that a noose dressed like a necklace?       From here I couldn't really tell the difference    either way I say let's not take any chances       cause I don't know where he's gonna park that thing    Well I don't know where he's gonna park that thing    No I don't know where he's gonna park that thing