Prosperica - eleventyseven

Blessed be the ones who got it right

For theirs is the monopoly

On the only afterparty

That’s worth goin' to

Peace be with the ones who see the light

And charge the rest of us admission

To somethin' that we’re missin'

They call critical

Am I comin' of age?

Or goin' to waste?

Or missing the point entirely?

What if God so loved

Middle-class America

That he sent his one and only gun

To wage the war on drugs

And whosoever stands

Where the party line demands

We’ll get to say I told ya so

When all of us are dead

Blessed be the kids who grew up quick

Behind artificial fences

And tranquilize offenses

Like their parents do

Peace be with the man who never quits

Until he’s havin' his first heart attack

From an unexpected market crash at 42

Am I comin' of age?

Or goin' to waste?

Or missing the point entirely?

What if God so loved

Middle-class America

That he sent his one and only gun

To wage the war on drugs

And whosoever stands

Where the party line demands

We’ll get to say I told ya so

When all of us are dead

What if God so loved

Middle-class America

That he sent his one and only gun

To wage the war on drugs

And whosoever stands

Where the party line demands

We’ll get to say I told ya so

When all of us are dead

They’ll get to say I told ya so

When all of us are dead