Circles

The little corporal returns from another Moscow
Five foot two in his platform shoes
Speaks a little slow
Hail the retreat of a white messiah
Wading neck deep in the mire
Slinging his mud right in our eye
To see where it will stick

He's standing on the soapbox now
Lathering into a frenzy
It's all "his and hers" and racial slurs
And the displacement of your senses
If anyone wants to find the way home
It's a paper chase papered with blood and foam
The loneliest long distance call
To a widow who's watching the war

Well, you can look at the numbers
Watch them mount
Who gives a good goddamn about the body count
History is guesswork
And we're going round
We're going round in circles
We're going round in circles

The weather got hard at the end of March
And the wind cut like a knife
Blew into our faces wherever we turned
We were holding on for life
It looks like we're gonna go straight to hell
And he's got big ideas but he just can't spell them
Whose idea was this anyway and why is it never mine?

Well, you can look at the numbers
Watch them mount
Who gives a good goddamn about the body count
It's rising like clockwork
And we're going round
We're going round in circles
We're going round in circles

Why is it he will never agree
To the truth of his biography?
His secret's safe with us
We'll take it to the grave

The air vent's locked and the ceilings closed
Energy levels at an all time low
Tone deaf people playing musical chairs
Die sloe-mo in the snow
Nothing or less, you can take your pick
A rose without thorns or a pointless prick
Did I ever tell you that you make me sick?
We're laughing deep inside

Congratulations for all your lies
I hope the moment you died, you felt justified
History's more than homework
And we're going round in circles
And we're going round
We're going round in circles
We're going round in circles



Credits
Writer(s): Wesley Stace
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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