Sorry, Tom

Inside all the high schools in the poor parts of town
Recruiters greet students like travel agents
What else could come from abandoned loose leaf
But kindle for fire in the Pentagon's home

Someone in a wheelchair hangs out everyday
At the foot of the exit on Kimberly Road
I wonder how they got there, did they go there by choice
How does this become anyone's last resort

I imagine the dreams of the president and those
Elected officials who serve S.O.L
Will one day pair loyalty with the world instead of
The nations they serve and the dicks that they have

I'm sorry to my grade school history teachers
I'm sorry to Francis Fukuyama
I'm sorry to you, Tommy Brokaw
But patriotism is nothing but dead to me



Credits
Writer(s): Aj Boucek
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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