With sense of irony - everyone
  You see is chasing their illusion
  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
  Besides 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
  
  Where is our John Wayne
  Where is our sacred cowboys now?
  Where are the indians on the hill
  There's no indians left to kill
  
  People die with oxycen
  Andall their money
  Can afford a breath
  People starving everywhere
  And staring in the face of death
  Prostituties and politicans
  Laying in their beds together
  You can be the saviour
  Of the poor
  Making up the policies
  To open the back door...