Machine

With the stylish cover couples leaving us in awe
Plastic bins, filled with plastic crap sold to all
I'll just sit down and groan, whine
About all the things that are not mine
Cynicality is my friend with chains
And pessimism is my name
So when happiness rears its beautiful head
I'll shoot it down with my bullets

I am the chief of all the trees
In World War 3
But I'm not too tall
So they will kill me

Soft annihilation, we don't to hurt feelings
But I have to say if love to meet mine
And the moment that I do, I've only one thing to do
I would love to hurt its feelings back!
Because when I'm sad, I think I really am depressed
But man I blame my feelings for all of that
Everytime my feelings walk in a store I want to burn it down
Cause they see magazines with people who have sold their soul

So I will be the chief of police
In World War 3
But rioting is the easy way
I know they'll kill me
I know they'll kill me
I know they'll kill me
I know they'll kill me!!!

But then I'll know
Why our governments only targets the poor
And I will sing
A stinging thorn tree
So please don't cry
We all grow up and die
Or be chief of the things that really don't need it

And I will be the chief of me
In World War 3
And you would do the same
I hope you'd do the same
Oh please do the same!