Enough searching to know

That we've lost ourselves

In our slot machines, shotguns, and strip malls

Baby your technology

So slick and functional

And me without my nuclear arsenal

And if I could kill without guilt or sin

There'd soon be a few less record executives

And if I could kill and receive forgiveness

There'd sure as hell be one less president

There's got to be a pill for forgiveness

There's got to be a trigger for happiness

Automatic sensory remote control

Weather satellites manipulate your soul

Efficiently without a modicum of grace

I want to go out with a smile on my face