Pole Position      They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there   But it's our job to keep the lies out of the breathing air   Are we in a position to pull an insurection   When it's our job to keep   Corruption from total eruption   Off the track   Short on time   Human race   Fall behind   The Great Escape   The Vast Empire   The fields of mines   The cold barbed wire   We're faling out and withering away   Should we try and make a fairweather day   When the finish line is beyond far away   They're stickin it to us now that we're almost there   We'll never make it through the tear gass and the smoke filled air   They're killing everyone nameless and poor   Outside I struggle to survive   It's a fucking war   We're dying off and sinking away   Far beneath the wings of the Enola Gay   Where the podium is out of bullet's range