I make my way back home after all the pale riders have gone to bed

This is my time.

Highbeam dreams threaten to close my eyes before my trip is through

This is my time.

I wonder if the president knows that the United States gets this dark at night

This is my time

Hairpin turns and solitary acceleration have brought me back to Jericho

This is my time

Will her walls fall for me tonight?   



The buttons big and small are polished for glory,

waiting for the megalomania to commence

Guided missiles awaken Gabriel for his song

His song can be heard in Philadelphia and Pyongyang

By men of the alley, carrying their cardboard crosses

crying “ Novus Ordo Seclorum”


The redwood trees will outlast this troubled empire,

waiting for Mother Nature to reclaim what’s hers

Wall Street invests in their own survival,

mars is waiting for their conquest

If I bury my melodies in the ground,

will they dig them up as artifacts?


While under the shade of palm trees America panics,

waiting for the rockets to fire

A false alarm will help you realize,

how much of a shithole your country really is

It makes you think about things,

and who you love