I'm broken, you're cold
On false pretext, sold
Not happy anymore since the
Drugs walked out the door
Too black, Too bold
The center won't hold
Troubadours and Whores
Get down on the floor
Our machines need fuel
And abortion isn't cool
God's in every room
Says the simple-minded fool
Slides his truck into gear
Puts his brain in the rear
He's barely getting by
Finds comfort in a lie
Morality decayed
Twenty different ways
Flattened and ground
Making ignorant sounds
Watch me evolve
I'm up so high —
There's no room up on this tree
Oh, but fantasies are free
He said, "I'm gonna start a war"
Not certain what it's for
Your suit's fast asleep
Already spoken for
Troubadours and Whores
Back down on the floor
Stop talking — no one's listening
Your stories are a bore
Meet your maker
He's an ugly little prick
Feeds on prayers —
He's an egomaniac
So much like you
To put your faith in someone else
Is the burden too heavy for yourself?
Is the burden too heavy for yourself?