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
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