With a sense of irony everyone you see is chasing their illusions   Take a dive or sink or swim, but in the end you’re in the same pollution   In your world escape is swift, the nonsense list is all you need to know   In the land of dreams, you make the right connections, then you’ll be the hero   Ecstasy, the cult of me provides our institutions   You can live forever with a grave that stands where people used to function   You can join the saviours of our culture, vultures circling overhead my sky   Like the sin of gluttony won’t set you free, but Betty Ford can help you try      You can get all the things you never needed   You can sell people crap and make them eat it      But where is our John Wayne   Where’s our sacred cowboy now?   Where are the indians on the hill?   There’s no indians left to kill      People die with oxygen and all their money can’t afford a breath   People starving everywhere and staring in the face of death   Prostitutes and politicians laying in their beds together   You can be the saviour of the poor making up the policies to open up the back door...      You can get all the things you never needed   You can sell people crap and make them eat it      Where is our John Wayne   Where’s our sacred cowboy now?   Where are the indians on the hill?   There’s no indians left to kill      Where is our John Wayne   Where’s our sacred cowboy now?   Where are the indians on the hill?   There’s no indians left to kill      You can get all the things you never needed   You can sell people crap and make them eat it...eat it!      Where is our John Wayne   Where’s our sacred cowboy now?   Where are the indians on the hill?   There’s no indians left to kill      Where is our John Wayne   Where’s our sacred cowboy now?   Where are the indians on the hill?   There’s no indians left to...kill...