Setting Sons

You’re jealous of my passions Don’t think I haven’t noticed ‘cause I don’t keep up with fashions And I don’t eat of your Lotus I don’t fall for your heroes Hook, line, and sinker Don’t worship in the shadows Of your latest hit dead-ringer I’m a little bit out of step And that’s okay I’d rather be a cripple any day Than join your march into oblivion And join the empire of your setting sons You eye me with suspicion – I’m a curiosity A weird anachronism In the real-time that you see I don’t fall for your answers Or your ancient, lowbrow wisdom As you blare your scripted scriptures From your belfry in the mission I’m a little bit out of step And that’s okay I’d rather be a cripple any day Than join your march into oblivion And join the empire of your setting sons Every sucker, two to take him Every culture, paved to wasteland Every sucker, two to take him Every culture, paved to wasteland You question my conviction And dispel my sense of freedom ‘cause I don’t sleep with your women And I don’t dream of your Eden