• Promised Land

    Oh, trophy wives and sheltered lives, meals on a silver platter
    eating dinner like a king, your wine laced with cyanide--
    ears always perked, your eyes on the watch; intrigue domestique, a la Suburbia.
    Rancid milk and stale candy saccharine, everyone's got something to hide
    ripe red berries picked fresh from a baby's fist, in whom do you confide?
    syrup smiles, hypervigilance, take a sweet from your grandma's purse
    Oh, spoiled saccharine Suburbia, mildewed whispers in the watering hole
    the sickly-sweet scent carries quite far in the stagnant suburb air
    you know they are, you know they are, they're talking about you
    stale candy smiles, wide-eyed greetings and glittered goodbyes,
    Oh, bliss ignorance, cloying wet-rot wood in a forest of sugared lies...
    you don't know what you're missing, Suburbia
    but superficiality will do that to you
    Top off your glass of wine, Suburbia, tonight we drink to you
    take a long, deep draught, Suburbia
    Tonight, we drink to you.