The gods of America stripped to their clown faces the flag flies proudly as the lies are revealed it is always our choice, our demand, our purpose whether we stand or whether we kneel we throw in a box the things we never needed things too scary for a story, too ugly for a song but the true story will be told a price will be paid by the guilty and the damned In chaotic mass uncertainty We fumbled away our glory That's the way it goes, always goes -  Until it doesn't.