The snipers are passed out. In the bushes again. I'm glad I got my suit dry-cleaned. Before the riots started. Cos there's only rehashed faces. On the bread line tonight. Soon you'll be a figment. Of some infamous life. Billionaires smile like weapons. Passing out platinum pensions. They're out of kontrol. No one knows how low they'll go. (Hold on). Take a ride on a broken train. Those bra burning deportees. At the service station. They know that beige. Is the color of resignation. We're out of kontrol. No one knows how low we'll go. (Hold on). Take a ride on a broken train. Shining like crystal tiaras. Ghettos and grey Rivieras. This is the real me ladies. You won't find no shelter here. Tell me what's your zip code baby. Did you ever let a cowboy sit on your lap.