Meet me at the laundromat   The one between our houses   Meet me in the alley way   Just before the dumpsters   Where as children, we'd conspire   To overthrow the neighbors   To weed out all the cruel old men and save their lovely daughters      These are troubled days my friend   In a way we're all still children   This room's-a-spinning with the untapped rage   Of our hundred hearts-a-beating   Maybe with some kind of sympathy   Or maybe just true horror   Lately, there's a lot of talk gon' 'round bout time   Reaching a zenith of despair      I watch myself sit idly by like some distant cold third person   And stare so blankly at the news fed by my telescreen   cnnbcmsdotdubelyoodubelyoodownasdakianbackwash      While a dozen nations argue the significance of a piece of land, unholy you & me my friend, formed some kind of police dog state (wuf)   In attempt to regulate such bloodshed      Asprin might stop the itch   Who will stop the burning