Lies from the canyon down to the core   Drip from your rich tongue and feed the poor   Blood on the back-nine you rig the game   Black out the blue sky and scar your name      In the meantime   On the front-line   You know you’re rights      Down in the garden under the sun   There grows a sick vine in everyone   Chokes up the roses grown for the grave   Damn to the river shore to the wave      In the meantime   On the front-line   Got my ray gun   You got your land-mines      You don’t see me   But I’ve got eyes on you   You don’t own me   But I’ve got rights on you